


Legend of VLDL: The Spark of Azerim

by Tuatha



Category: Epic NPC Man (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Gaming, Gen, NPCs - Freeform, VLDL, Viva La Dirt League
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuatha/pseuds/Tuatha
Summary: What if the game you're playing were real to the NPC's within? What if some of those same NPC's were aware? Now... what if they suddenly became players in their world? What if their world became a new reality? Come explore Skyrims past and embark with these well beloved characters on a quest to save their new existence!From the guys that brought you EpicNPCman: VIVA LA DIRT LEAGUE; content creators for YouTube! And from a devoted fan: Tuatha!





	1. Prologue

It was another fine day in Honeywood. The sun was shining down on the small town as a light breeze passes over the main road, causing ripples in the small lake nearby. Birds were also chirping merrily within the trees throughout Honeywood, doing whatever birds do. There's an earthly tang in the air that refreshed the mind and calmed the spirit. This is a town of simple things but the folk would not change that for anything. If strife should appear, there were many helpful adventurers that came to their town to start their journey to become heroes.

For surely, the local garlic farmer, Greg, always seemed to have quests for these determined men and women, as well as wares to help them on their way.

There is a chime as another stalwart Adventurer becomes eligible for an epic quest!

Across the road from Greg the garlic farmer, a space ripping portal appears and out comes a figure swathed in armor and robes. Despite the elaborate yet rough attire and magical staff, the figure is a ruggedly handsome man under his dark hood. This is the High Sorcerer of Azerim called Baradun, and he has come seeking the aid of a dimwitted –sorry- valiant adventurer! His deep green eyes blaze with purpose as he begins to beguile the young hero into helping him.

Before Baradun can gain the adventurers help, another portal suddenly appears. Baradun steals a glance behind the hero, at Greg, who shrugs, looking as bewildered as the Sorcerer.

From the luminescent portal, out steps a cloaked woman. The cloak shrouds her figure and its hood covers most of her hair; though some dark strands have escaped to frame her fair face. She too has a staff, though dark and elegant with a large jewel within the top. With nigh a glance at Baradun, the woman's green gaze finds the Adventurer. In a voice ringing with radiance, she says, "Hero! I am High Priestess Tuwana of Azerim, an enchantress who has come to this beautiful town seeking one of noble heart and strength of will." Behind the adventurer, Greg smiles, though it falters when Baradun glares at him. "I implore you, adventurer," Priestess Tuwana continues, "to come with me and become my Great Champion to free my people from a terrible tyrant!"

"Don't listen to her." Baradun announced in his deep resonating voice, clearly flustered at being interrupted. He didn't even get the chance to insult this town like he usually does. "Fame and gold await you if you leave this decaying mess of a town and come with me!" He gestures at the adventurer to come towards him with a gauntleted hand, willing the hero to pick him.

High Priestess Tuwana pouted; barely sparing the Sorcerer a glance. She takes her staff into her other hand and opens her arms to the Adventurer. Suddenly everything felt fuzzier and lighter. The sun shone brighter and warmer. A wave of gentle joy swept over the Adventurer; deepening as he gazed at her through the blurred world. It became difficult to discern details of the woman before him, but the impression of light purple silk simply designed under the cloak and dark roman sandals stuck. Still, it was those startling green eyes that held him as she took a step towards him. With her free hand, she laid it upon the adventurer's chest, who was now giving her his full attention. "Oh please, Adventurer…" She purred as she looked up at him through her lashes and lightly trailed her fingers over his chest and shoulder. "I can't defeat this evil alone. I need someone strong… and valiant." Tuwana bit her lip for a moment. "If you would come and help… my fellow Priestesses and I would be very… very," she inched just slightly closer, "very grateful." She ends with a small, suggestive, smile.

The adventurer seemed to shudder before enthusiastically nodding. "Yes, fair lady, I will help you!"

With a pleased smile, Tuwana stepped back, blocking Baradun from the Hero's sight, and created another portal. "Then come, Champion, step through and I shall meet you at my Temple." She gave his arm a reassuring pat as he passed her and entered the portal; disappearing. Once the adventurer vanishes, Tuwana turns and finally looks straight at Baradun. She gives him a haughty, triumphant look, having stolen his adventurer from him on purpose. With a parting smirk, she quickly exits through the portal and vanishes as well.

Baradun is left looking confused and frustrated, while wondering what the fuck just happened.

Seeing all this, and enjoying every minute of it, Greg the Garlic Farmer bursts out laughing in uncontrolled glee.


	2. The Past

The Past:

A very long time ago…

The Ambassadors ward was a quiet lass of about seven. Her long dark hair already reached her waist when let down and her eyes were a startling green. Those eyes had the uncanny ability to pierce right into a man's soul, even on one so young. She held herself with grace and purpose. The wee one was an heir of some sort, or so the Captain of the barge ship was told. A noble girl but not Royal; whatever "Royal" was in her homeland across the vast ocean. It was also rumored that she as destined for the Temple of Carlebor after they docked at Gerdawn. If that was true, the girl would be going to learn magic.

Captain Oldoran shuddered. He'd rather not meddle in the affairs of magic and wizards; they were unnerving as it was.

When the Ambassador stepped on deck, the Captain straightened and gave him a respectful nod. "Making good time today, M'Lord, even with the current against us. We already have Polhaven behind us." He reported. He, himself was impressed with their progress; more so of how long the journey already was for his clients. Just the other day, the Lady Danugan was telling him how the great sea ship she voyaged on before the barge had gone passed the northern coast, and passed in viewing distance of the great mountainous Shmargonrock which has been home to a terrible dragon that has yet to be defeated by any man. For surly, anyone brave enough to pass into Balgonrawg lands to reach the dragon could just perish on the way. She told him how fascinated she was of this lands stories and lands. Which she proved when she listened raptly while the Captain regaled her on the history of the city of Vilanthril. The conversation had eased some of his discomfort of the girl; though perhaps not all.

"Thank you, Captain." The man replied before making his way to his ward who was standing at the rail, watching this strange land along the river pass them by. "My Lady Tuwana…" he waited until the young girl turned. Her cheeks were rose against her ivory skin, almost matching the shade of her lips. Ever since her audience with the High Priestess of the Temple of Morisanore, she'd been melancholy; but then, who could blame her, considering. "Are you sure the High Priestess told you to learn at Temple of Carlebor in Honeyvale? It seems unprecedented to entrust your training to these… these people." He continued, trying to be tactful.

Lady Tuwana leveled that piercing stare at her countryman. "It is my destiny, Ambassador Dirga. No more do you need to know." She squared her shoulders. It felt like she'd grown up many more years than her actual seven, and it was evident that it showed by the way people around her acted. "Besides, it's only until I pass my Apprenticeship, then my real training can begin with her." Tuwana stepped away from the rail, her steps sure after many weeks travelling over water. "And you get to be wined and dined in the Gerdawn Embassy; you need not step foot in the Temple of the Grand Wizard."

Dirga let out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. "Well… yes. I suppose. But your parents entrusted me to-"

"To get me to the Capital. From there, the Headmaster will have people ready to escort me the rest of the way. As is… customary." She'd been getting tutored on the local culture and customs of this part of Azerim to pass the time. Tuwana preferred to distract herself with such things rather than dwell on her home sickness and loneliness. "Do we have anything further we need to discuss?" She asked, though the words were clearly a dismissal.

"No, my Lady." He inclined his head in acknowledgment and promptly left to go back into the cramped cabin.

Tuwana sighed. Growing up as a child of privilege, the High Priestess had warned Tuwana that her noble authority would end the moment she entered the temple. If she hoped to do well… she would have to adjust to being equal to mere peasants and tradesmen's offspring. For all who showed magical talent was sent to the Temples to learn. She turned back towards the scenery, already fearing that she would be the outcast student among a people she did not know.

. . .

Watching her escorts travel back to Gerdawn, Tuwana suddenly felt an odd mixture of freedom and fear. There was a fleeting impulse to just run from here and travel and explore with this new found freedom. The stories told about how dangerous it could be for a girl in this country stayed her feet. Alone, she turned to the large looming doors of the Temple and crossed to the big metal knocker on one side. The problem was she couldn't reach the stupid thing! Try as she might to make herself taller, or jump, all she could do was touch it with the tip of her finger.

It just wasn't fair! Why must she come alone as instructed only to be stopped by something as simple as a knocker? Tuwana huffed like only a young girl-child could. In anger, she pounded on the door, hoping someone would hear the sound of small fists beat the thick varnished wood. She even tried kicking the door. Until finally, tired, bruised and frustrated, Tuwana sat down on the grandiose steps with her head in her arms.

Tuwana thought about home, where she could barely open her mouth without some servant asking her what she wanted. She was never alone, even when she wanted to be. No door was closed to her at home. Tuwana could not yet count high enough to number the times she made her handlers follow her in cramped forgotten crevices and catacombs. She'd gone through many a maid before one was hired who was willing to follow her anywhere. The young Grithel never disappointed!

Unfortunately, like everything else familiar, Grithel was back at home; along with her parents, siblings and friends. Not that her family cared much what happened to her.

Where was she then? Stuck in a strange land with strange people. Sent to a strange place to learn her magic.

Magic.

She was about to curse the moment she let slip her powers when Tuwana had a thought. This was where she was to learn how to control her magic, so perhaps the way in was with magic.

Her young mind grappled with the realization a moment before she sprang up to her feet. Facing the door, Tuwana raised her small arms and closed her eyes. She tried to remember how to find the place her chaotic powers had come from. When she'd been hurt in a dark hole and couldn't find her way, a light appeared that lead her out. The High Priestess said she'd conjured it. She conveniently forgot to say from where.

Tuwana turned her thoughts on the door knocker, imagining it lifting all the way up. Using the desire she felt for a light to lead her way to safety, she used her desire to get inside the Temple to lift the knocker. Feeling suddenly tired, she let go of the thought and opened her eyes.

The knocker fell and hit the door with a resounding thud! A moment after, the doors swung inwards, revealing a grand atrium with marble flooring and columns, beyond which climbed on large elaborate spiral staircase.

A man stood in the middle of the front room. He was adorned in dark robes with sigils of Carlabor and Honeyvale. He was old by her standards with a long brown beard just beginning to speckle white. The man gave her a welcoming smile as she walked inside the Temple. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever open the door."

Tuwana's cheeks burned with embarrassment. The answer to the door seemed so simple, even childish. She gave him a short curtsy, not knowing what else to do. "I'm sorry." Was all she seemed to be able to say.

The man chuckled. "Don't fret, child. Many youngsters before you have spent hours trying to open the door. One young one took a full day. You can imagine their relief when they didn't need to spend another night on cold stone." He chuckled again, before straightening to his very tall height. "Forgive my manners. I am Headmaster Silavyn, one of many wizards and sorcerers who walk these halls. I will be overseeing your tutelage throughout your time here. Along with the other students of course." He nodded to another man who seemed to just appear. "Please take Miss Tuwana's bags to her appointed room for her, while I introduce her to her fellow students."

The servant nodded, passed Tuwana to get her bags and the moment he had them in hand, disappeared.

Seeing the startled look on the young girls face, Silavyn chuckled again. "Come, child. The others have just finished breaking their fast." He assured, turning and going down a hallway to the side.

From outside, the complex looked like a very large tower, but the inside felt much larger than what Tuwana had seen. She smiled as she was lead down to a common area. The whole tower must be magic! They entered a circular room with a thick circular rug in the middle. On the rug were children of various types and ages. They all looked up and their gazes zeroed in on the newcomer. Feeling suddenly shy with so many eyes on her, Tuwana took a step behind the Headmaster.

The Headmaster, however, would have none of that and maneuvered her back in front of him. "Children… and teacher," he began, giving a nod to the elderly looking woman leading the morning class, "this is Tuwana Danugan from Deckon Province in the newly discovered continent of Westland. She has been sent to learn magic here until old enough to go back and take up whatever backwards magic they have." He introduced nonchalantly.

Amongst the twitters and smirks, Tuwana wasn't sure how she liked how her people were described. If the magic of this place was better than Westland, they would have to prove it. With that in mind, she squared her shoulders and met the curious gazes head on.

"Please show her hospitality as she learns here." Headmaster Silavyn gave her shoulders a pat before doing a sweeping one eighty out of the room, closing the door behind him.

This departure was followed by awkward silence; even the teacher wasn't sure how to continue from there.

The tension was cut when a pre-pubescent boy got up and walked over to her. "Names Baradun." He said and stuck out his hand. When she took it, he shook it firmly. "Welcome to Carlabor. Just stick with me, kid, and you'll fit right in!" As if to prove this point, Baradun lead her by the hand to the carpet where there was now space to sit side by side.

Once seated, she felt a tap on her hand; when Tuwana turned to see who it was, she saw a small boy –no… gnome. He gave her his own cheeky grin. "I am Terrance."

"Hello, nice to meet you." Tuwana replied with a timid grin.

Baradun got her attention again. "Are you an elf?"

"No." Tuwana answered, taken aback; a deep blush appeared on her cheeks.

"Then what's with the ears?" he asked, pushing the issue bluntly.

Tuwana brushed her hair forward to try to hide her slightly pointed ears. "They've just always been that way." She hedged.

"Oh. Okay." Baradun shrugged.

By then the teacher was drawing everyone's attention back to her, saving Tuwana from answering any more embarrassing questions.

. . .

Taking a running start, Tuwana jumped and was able to finally clamber over the wall of rock and dirt only to sprint to try to catch up to the others. "Guys! Wait up!" She shouted between breaths. After Terrance, she was the shortest one but always seemed to be the last one following. Her class had been allowed to take the day off to explore the mountains and forest near the temple. Apparently something special had been found.

She ran around a bend, expecting the others to be right there, but when she saw no one, Tuwana stopped and looked around. Did they abandon her? She took a deep breath and looked for any sign of their passage. "Guys?" Tuwana called again.

After a heart racing pause, there was the sound of rocks falling from a small cliff to her right. She looked up to see Baradun looking down at her. "Come on Tuwa! We're almost there!"

"Okay!" Tuwana looked over the rocks to find the way up and scrambled up one crevice to the next. Each time she looked up, Baradun was there waiting. When she was nearly to the top, Tuwana saw his outstretched hand and took it gratefully. "Thank you, Baradun." She said when she was on the top at last.

He gave her a sly grin. "You'll get faster." He told her with the assuredness of a young boy. Baradun took her hand and lead her down a hidden path and soon enough they soon heard the sound of a small waterfall. It was why they'd come; one of the others had found it some time ago and now everyone was hoping to have a place they could call their spot.

When the pool and waterfall was revealed, Tuwana could only gape at it. It was like something out of a bards tale! The pool was not overly large, but big enough for a half dozen children to enjoy its cool waters. The waterfall fell from three tiers before plunging into the pool, but there didn't seem to be any stream leaving it. There were already a few kids at the tiers, seeing who was daring enough to go higher than the rest.

Baradun was still grinning and hurried to join the fun.

Instead of joining them, Tuwana found a grassy spot to sit and watch; content just to watch the water fall from its high perches. The waters looked deep, almost bottomless and there didn't look like there were any shallower waters she would enjoy better. The pools in her parent's estate and within the city in fact, were all shallow and manmade. Tuwana had never been to a natural pool until she'd some to this land. She wondered if the Temple of the High Priestess had natural pools or if they were all made of marble and stone like the ones at home. She was lost in thought while the others around her played, swam and jumped in and out of the pool. Thoughts of home dominated her thoughts, so she wasn't prepared when a pair of hands grabbed her and she was being dragged to the water. "What! No! I don't want to go in, just leave me be!" Tuwana struggled and tried to escape, but the boys only laughed, along with all the other children, who thought it was a bit of fun to watch. Unceremoniously, she was heaved off the ground and thrown into the water.

The surface world suddenly disappeared to be replaced by the muted and dark realm of the water. She tried to kick like she saw the others do, but to no avail. Tuwana was panicking too much to reason her way into learning how to swim to save her. If anything, she was dropping deeper within the pool and her breath was bursting to escape her lungs.

The sound of a plunging body washed over her and an explosion of bubbles beside her. Her grip of consciousness started to fade as a shadow came at her and grabbed her from the darkening waters and pulled her up to the surface.

Tuwana gasped for breath as they breached the surface. She couldn't see who had come to her rescue as they were behind her and her face was covered in wet hair. Not until she was helped out of the pool and allowed to crawl as far away as her suddenly exhausted body would allow her to get. She sat, shivering, but not from the cold, and wiped the hair from her face. The scene in front of her would have been funny if she hadn't been so pissed off.

They were all staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. All silent, as if unsure what to say or do; as if they weren't all laughing just a moment ago as she was forced into a pool when she couldn't swim.

Suddenly there was a crackle in the air and the other children seemed almost to become locked in their positions; unable to move. As if they'd become statues. The air around them seemed to vibrate as Tuwana's anger and embarrassment took hold. She slowly stood up, her cloths still dripping wet and took a step forward. Did these puny, backwards people not know how close they'd come to ruining everything?

Before she could take another step, he was suddenly there, in her way and blocking her view.

"Step away, Baradun." She ordered through clenched teeth.

For a moment it looked like he was about to step away, but Baradun shook his head, ran an absent hand through his wealth of wet hair and gripped her by the shoulders. "Take a breath, Tuwa." He instructed in a voice that was at once calm, and extremely angry. There was worry written on his soaked face, but his words held none of that.

Tuwana found herself taking a deep breath.

"Are you okay?"

It wasn't what she was expecting him to say next, much less ask. In the mere months she'd known the haughty boy, never had he expressed concern for another student. She looked into his eyes, wondering if he was sincere, or just hoping to avoid a demonstration of how wild her magic could be. When she did, she suddenly felt grounded; calm. She took another breath. "No… but I will be." Her voice couldn't hide the hurt their rash actions had caused; but she wouldn't let her magic escape while she was angry enough to hurt someone.

The vibrations evaporated, and there was an audible gasp from most of the kids behind him. Baradun grinned. "Let's go. There are too many brats here anyway." He said, leading her back through the path back to the Tower.

Before the magic had fully disappeared, however, Tuwana couldn't help but hope it erased her embarrassing weakness of not being able to swim from everyone else's mind.

. . .

Waking up, Tuwana knew it was going to be a bad day. The weather for one was already hot and sweltering even with the Sun barely up. For another, she woke late and had to rush to class. Her only saving grace was the intuitive magic of the Tower guiding her straight to the room she needed.

Arriving out of breath, disheveled, and hungry, the teacher merely pointed her to the end of the line of students. Tuwana rushed to the end, red-faced, as she tried to straighten her tunic and trousers. The fabric stuck to her sweaty skin which made it harder to fix. She could only guess what mess her hair was.

At the end of the line, Tuwana took a breath and tried to peak at the front to see what kind of spell they were attempting today. Her already low spirits fell when she saw they were showing their teacher their progress with firebolt again. It was a spell she wasn't very good at. Correction: she couldn't do it. All she'd been able to do is make sparks. Nor had she practiced.

Fortunately she wasn't alone; a few of the other students barely conjured a candle flame and were sent to stand behind Tuwana. Those who could produce a firebolt got to sit down.

Of course Baradun was already sitting down. Even had his smug smile on as he leaned back on his chair with his feet on the desk. He caught her looking and gave her a wink. The first time they'd been lined up to try this spell, Baradun barely listened to the teacher and with a flick and push of his hand, sent a firebolt perfectly into the center of the target. Even the teacher was surprised.

It was almost Tuwana's turn and the heat seemed to escalate; as well as her anxiety. A dozen reasons she would fail seemed to rush into her mind; each one she tried to silence.

Then it was her turn.

Tuwana stared at the cursed target and suddenly felt very angry. She was the Chosen Successor of the High Priestess! Destined to live in the Temple of Morisanore in the plains of Leilainz; the Temple that rose from the grasslands and touched the sky! It was well established that she had powerful magic in her veins, and damn it, it will obey her!

She moved her hand and wrist how she'd seen Terrance and Baradun do and thrust out her hand.

There was no firebolt.

Instead what erupted was a ripple with tiny electric sparks that engulfed the target and shattered it completely.

Even Tuwana was in shock. Nothing that powerful had ever come from her, not even in her wildest fits at home.

The teacher shook himself and really looked at Tuwana. "That was not a firebolt." He chided, but his tone was gentler than she'd yet heard from him. "But not everyone has a talent for fire. Your talent is much more. For that, you can sit down."

Letting go of a breath she wasn't aware of holding, Tuwana smiled and strode to her seat beside Baradun. Only then did she notice she was no longer angry or anxious; nor was she so warm.

Baradun leaned over to her. "How did you do that?"

Tuwana shrugged. "I am destined to become High Priestess of Azerim. There's obviously a reason I was chosen. Magic is in my Blood. I just need to learn what I can do." Her words were very self-satisfied. She grinned at him, the bad day starting to turn. She was one step closer to being ready for her destiny.

. . .

The years at the Temple of Carlabor had revealed many things to Tuwana about herself. One being that her power came from something much more subtle, and perhaps more wild, than that of the apprentices and masters around her.

Once she learned to let go of the circumstances and prejudices of her past and live more in the present moment, Tuwana found her magic much more tangible. It was more cooperative. It was no longer a beast, beating and clawing within her for escape. Now it was a guardian protector.

As she grew into her power, Tuwana found getting her way was much easier, especially with the younger or less intelligent residents. Perhaps it was more that her peers got used to her and became more accepting. Some even becoming friends with the foreigner student.

Baradun continued to be her best friend during her stay at the Tower. Though he was still somewhat of a mystery to her. From day one he'd been nice to her and accepted her; while others got his condescension and distain. His ruthless ambition tended to chase people away yet he always had time to help Tuwana with certain magic's and actually listen to her explain others. She actually admired his ambition, for it matched her own. As long as he continued to be nice to her, Tuwana didn't care much how he treated others –unless it went against her morals or own plans; which it seldom did. She knew his arrogance and bravado was just a cover for insecurities. What those insecurities were, however, she may never find out.

They saw each other nearly every day and hung out every chance they got. Along with the older gnome Terrance, they learned together, they got into hijinks together, and they got in trouble together.

Then something seemed to change when Baradun turned eighteen and she sixteen. Suddenly they weren't children anymore, but nor were they adults. Not that each of them would gain much more maturity as quickly as regular humans, but the future seemed much closer.

To anyone else, the shift would have been imperceptible it was so slight. As attuned with destiny and the future as Tuwana was, it startled her out of her childish trance of ignorance and dropped her into a present she wasn't prepared for.

Baradun was making plans.

He always boasted that he would be the next High Sorcerer; a position he coveted greatly. How could the current High Sorcerer choose anyone else? Before his boasts were just the dreams of a child playing at being a hero. He would make up grand adventures he would go on and the monsters he would defeat. Oh how he would be loved by the people and feared by his enemies.

It was always him going on the adventures and saving the day. Getting praised and acknowledged.

Then one day, while they were in the nearby forest enjoying a warm day off from their studies, Baradun nudged and told her, "When I become High Sorcerer, Tuwana, we'll go anywhere you want. We'll explore all of Azerim together." His words were frank and decided. He knew his path and that what once was a fantasy had become a goal.

One he seemed to want to share with her.

Tuwana was still too much of a child to realize the full extent of his determination. She just wanted him to keep liking her. So all she said back was, "You'll make a great High Sorcerer, Baradun." Though she did add, "With me as High Priestess, we could be a force for good." Becoming High Priestess was a certainty in her life; having Baradun beside her was the fantasy.

When she got older, her friendship with Baradun got stranger, as well as confusing. Tuwana soon realized that even when she had to be blunt about her future, he would remain stubborn on her continuing role in his life. He didn't get that she had a responsibility to her people as well as all of Azerim. Adventures with her best friend would have to wait.

It was at once aggravating as well as enduring. She wanted to stay in Honeyvale and explore this land as he became High Sorcerer, but that wasn't possible. She couldn't dissuade him from his plans. For no matter how much the lines blurred and moved between them the last several years, Tuwana knew they would part. That day when her best friend and she would fall apart was fast approaching

. . .

As the three of them started their training together, they had become Apprentices together; and now they would walk the tables and become Journeymen together. Afterwards, they would be sent to learn their specific magical evocations –which they would not do together.

The apprentice table was abuzz with excitement and curiosity. They wouldn't know where they'd be going until their name was announced and they walked the tables to the Journeymen.

First they would have a feast. Only for such an occasion would the Hall be full as many Masters and Journeymen from around Azerim. They have come to either walk the tables themselves or welcome new protégés to their ranks.

Once everyone's bellies were full, instead of getting loud with conversation, it was quiet with anticipation. Once all eyes stared expectantly at the head table, the Grandmaster of the Temple of Carlabor stood. "I'll not make you wait any longer. This old man has things to do too." He jested and received much anxious tittering in response. "I am honored to announce that we have new Masters walking the tables. The first has shown excellent ability in…"

As he droned on, Tuwana stopped listening. Of course Apprentices would be last. While she wasn't in a hurry for this ceremony to get to her, she was excited to see where her friends would end up. Baradun was as nonchalant as ever, confident of his fate. Terrance, however, was impatient and fidgeting in his seat.

One by one, the new Masters were escorted by the Master who'd walked the tables last. Then the Grandmaster carried on to the Junior Journeymen going on to Senior. While the Grandmaster didn't give a long speech for each, it felt like he was taking way too much time on the Journeymen, making Tuwana and her fellow senior Apprentices impatient.

When it was finally their turn, they all sat up straight, giving superior looks to the junior apprentices and waited for their names to be called.

Grandmaster Erasan'mirvik named them at random, with a short blurb of their achievements and a hint of where they'd be going while the most junior Journeymen escorted the apprentice to the Journeymen table.

Silently, Terrance, Tuwana, and Baradun waited for their names to be announced. One by one, their classmates were taken to the next table.

When they were the only ones left, the Grandmaster simply began calling on the junior Apprentices to graduate them to senior Apprentices. Afterwards, he dismissed the Hall, congratulating those who advanced and wished them well on their studies and Journeys. He and the Headmaster stayed at the head table while everyone else stood and started filing out of the Hall.

One of the teachers came up to the confused trio with a patient smile. "You three stay seated until the Grandmaster calls you up." She gave Tuwana a pat on the arm and left the Hall.

This was not what they expected; why had they been overlooked? Why weren't they walked to the Journeyman table like the others? Were they in trouble?

The moment the last person was out and the Hall doors were shut, Grandmaster Erasan' beckoned them over and studied each of them as they stood before him. "Never in years uncounted have we seen such raw talent come into the Temple of Carlabor. Indeed, it did not take any of you long to display powers not many your age could even survive," he took a breath, "It is by the decree of the Council of Masters that each of you are to be taken as Journeymen by members for the Highest of us." He finished formally, straightening as his gaze focused on Baradun. "The High Sorcerer of Azerim has agreed to train you as his heir. You are to travel to his Ivory Tower with only what he instructs you to bring; if you survive the journey, he must take you." A parchment appeared in his hand which he handed to Baradun.

When first being addressed, everyone could tell that it took Baradun every ounce of will to not let his excitement out in any form, nor to tell those present he'd told them so. Baradun took the parchment and scanned it eagerly before placing it in his pocket. His mind was already planning the journey and wondering what trails he would have to pass to get to his Master. Absently, he bowed and thanked the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster turned to Terrance. "You have shown extraordinary skill and knowledge, Apprentice Terrance. Such skills must not be squandered. To that end, I will be taking you on as my Journeyman and next in line to Grandmaster."

"Thank you!" Terrance grinned widely; this was far more then he'd been hoping for. No longer would he be in Baraduns shadow!

"I am a hard taskmaster, gnome, but I believe we'll be a match for each other." Grandmaster Erasan'mirvik chuckled and finally turned to Tuwana. With a sad sigh, he sat down. The fate of this one was out of his hands. "Are you packed?"

Slowly, Tuwana nodded, getting a startled look from Baradun. She already knew where she was going. "The ship leaves at the first tide tomorrow. Master Corsair is portaling me to the ocean harbor."

Nodding, the Grandmaster smiled gently. "Tell the High Priestess that I faithfully return to her what was given to us. Though I am loath to do so. You will succeed to the rank of High Priestess of Azerim, and possibly outshine all your predecessors." He gave her a last smile before giving them all a dismissive wave. "Journeymen you all are now… go Journey."

Tuwana curtsied and hurried out of the Hall. Before she could make it two paces beyond the door, Baradun caught her arm and swung her around to face him. "That's it? You're crossing the entire ocean? Going far away?"

With her free hand, she covered his that gripped her arm. Tuwana tried to smile and shrugged. "Not till morning. We have time." She suddenly had the impression that he hadn't realized she would Journey so far from his home country to get her training.

Baradun shook his head, amber-green eyes flashing. "I leave tonight."

"Oh." Tuwana closed her eyes and willed herself to be okay.

"You never told me you had to go back to Westland to become High Priestess." Baradun insisted; though how he could have such a thing was beyond him.

Her eyes snapped open and she tugged her arm out of his grasp. "I did so! Not that you noticed cause you wouldn't listen to me," she snapped. Tuwana's fingers sparked, telling her to take a breath. She took three and took a step closer to Baradun. "This is our Destiny, Baradun. You will be High Sorcerer. While I must be High Priestess. These are our paths. I am sorry that they have to diverge so wide." She put a hand lightly on his slightly rough shaven cheek. "Our paths may twist together again one day." Tuwana gave him a beseeching look. "Can we please part as we begun? As friends?" she asked earnestly.

After a searching pause, Baradun took the hand on his cheek between his two hands. His gaze bore into her for a moment longer until he said, "We were never friends." Baradun let her hand fall and turned towards the Temple entrance; calling his minimal gear to him as he walked. He went around a corner and disappeared in a crackle of magic.

Leaving Tuwana at a loss for what to do, think, or feel. So she simply stood there as her heart and soul suddenly became unbearably heavy.

Until a gentle tap from Terrance jolted her out of her stupor. "Come on Tuwa. You still have plenty of friends that will want to say goodbye."

Numb, Tuwana followed the gnome to the barracks where the newly made Journeymen were gathering their things for the next stage of their lives. "But not the one that counts." She mumbled as she walked.


	3. The Wakening

Tuwana did not get a welcome when her ship docked at the Harbor. There was a defined absence of family or old friends from the docks or the stone street leading into the city proper. No one remembered or cared that she'd come back home to Westland. It reinforced her belief that the Duke who'd raised her like a father was glad to have been rid of her. Rid of the reminder.

She forced the emotions boiling inside her to turn back to a gentle simmer. She was twenty-one –an adult now. Tuwana had no obligation to the family anymore. Her path took her to a power they could only imagine. Their absence here just made continuing easier.

"Journeyman Danugan?" A soft, polite, voice queried behind her.

Turning, she found a slight carriage driver with the Morisanore livery embroidered on his tunic. "It's just Journeyman Tuwana, please. My past has no hold on my future."

The driver bowed. "Of course. Welcome back to Westland. The High Priestess eagerly awaits your arrival." At those words, he gestured behind him to a long distance carriage that could double as a sleeping cabin. The Plains of Leilainz was in the middle of Westland, a province away from these shores. It would take them a week or so to get there by carriage, more if the Mountains roads proved difficult.

"Thank you." Tuwana replied and proceeded to the carriage. She'd only been to the Temple (and the Harbor for that matter) once in her life, when she was seven. Portalling to a destination one couldn't visualize was a bad idea and only the most skilled could Portal somewhere just by a description. It would be years yet before she could do that. So for now, she must rely on more inconvenient methods of transportation.

Surprisingly, during the journey, Tuwana found herself thankful for the time to really see the country of her origins. As the miles passed, it felt like she was reconnecting to the land and getting to know its people. Westland was different than the land she just came from; here there was a much more spiritual component ingrained into daily life. Possibly due to the influx of lay lines that crisscrossed the continent. It was why the High Priestess resided here; she presided over the Divine Aspect of magic and thus provided for the spiritual needs of Azerim. The High Priestess was a neutral Divine conduit for any ones religious or spiritual calling.

It was for that reason the she also acted as an Advisor to the King or Queen of Westland. In fact, the Royal Dithril Ladageep line across the sea would seek the Council of the High Priestess from time to time.

Those of Westland held the High Priestess, and the Priesthood, in high regard; sometimes higher than Nobility or Royalty.

As the declared heir of the current High Priestess, Tuwana was also given a certain amount of respect and awe. Something she was not prepared for. The villages they travelled through would suddenly become active when her carriage was sighted, and the people would crowd the road just for a chance to see her. When they stopped for the night, the inns made her feel welcome.

It was far more then she was used to. Even those in the Temple of Carlabor didn't treat her so well. And it more than made up for the absences at the Harbor.

Of course there were exceptions. There was a small livestock hut and cairn between the last town and the Temple of Morisanore. They had stopped to water the horses for the last leg of the journey. The plains were safe, if secluded by mountain's, but had very little in the way of streams or lakes. The cairn and hut seemed worn down, but the structures that housed much of the livestock seemed well kept, as did the animals themselves.

Then Tuwana noticed a lone little girl outside of the hut, staring at the carriage with such longing that it touched the woman's heart. She got out of the carriage and smiled at the surprise on the girls face. Tuwana wore no gown, no jewels and definitely did not paint her face. All she had was her new journeyman robes she'd got from the Temple of Carlabor; her rucksack she left in the carriage. Otherwise she was unadorned. Even so, everyone seemed to know who she was; and this little girl soon came to that same insight. Her smile returned and the look turned to excitement as she also realized Tuwana was approaching her! "Hello," Tuwana greeted, kneeling down to be eye level with the little girl. Even with the dirt, Tuwana could tell that the girl could become very homely, beautiful even. Her long blond hair was already to her tiny waist; her skin was tanned but smooth, and there was strength already in her scrawny form. "My name is Tuwana."

"Mines Kat," the little girl squeaked. She seemed to gather her courage and took a deep breath, "Can-I-come-to-the-temple-with-you?" She asked very quickly. "I want to be a Priestess!"

Chuckling, Tuwana glanced over to the vast plains. Even this far, the top two spires of the Temple could be seen. It was a sight to behold; up close it was even more so. She turned back to Kat. "And why do you want to be a Priestess?" Even as she said the words, Tuwana knew by the tingling in her toes and fingers that this girl would be coming with her.

Kat beamed. "Whenever I dream… whenever I think about going… I see the temple. Not just the spires! My dreams take me inside. I help people." She told her with the straightforwardness of a child. "I've wanted to go for as long as I can remember."

"Well then," Tuwana took the little girls hands, "Perhaps our meeting was destined. You see I have a long apprenticeship awaiting me; and if you come, so do you. By the time I take the mantle of High Priestess, you will be ready to become a Priestess yourself. Maybe even the new High Priestesses Handmaiden." She winked at Kat.

"I'm going?" Kat asked, jumping up and down.

Tuwana nodded. "You are."

"She certainly is not!" Another voice announced from the huts doorway.

The voice caused Kat to scurry behind Tuwana, causing her to dislike the man on sight.

A sight which appalled Tuwana even more. He was about as tall as she was, but much more hefty. There was a roundness to his middle that seemed to explain Kat's scrawniness. The man was balding, but not completely so. His eyes were calculative and unkind; his teeth seemed to be the only clean and kept part of his person. His cloths were fine working cloths but had many layers of dirt on them. Skin also tanned like the child's, but deeper. He took care of the sheep first, himself second and everything else last.

Straightening to her full height, Tuwana looked over the man with a critical eye. "Are you her father?"

The man smirked, taking her measure in as well. "Nah. I take in strays and get 'em to help with the animals. Give them shelter, food, and cloths. More than they'd get on some street in some city."

"I see." Tuwana reached behind her and took one of the small hands clasped onto her robes. "Well, you shall be compensated for the loss of a worker after I've arrived at Morisanore. She is in my care now; and shall be accompanying me to the Temple." Before he could refute her claim, the distance between them was crossed and she looked him full in the eyes. She watched as they became unfocused and his face slackened. "You will let us go without another word. You will also treat your charges better. Teach them to read and write. Treat them kindly; for how you treat them will eventually return to you." Tuwana stepped back and crossed to Kat, taking her hand once more. "Come then Kat; we still have many miles to cross before nightfall." She declared. They climbed into the carriage; neither one of them looking back.

~. ~. ~.

If she had any doubts about bringing Kat with her to the Temple, they soon vanished as they both stepped up the grand stairs to the Temple proper. This building was more cathedral then Carlabor was; only the Tower of the High Priestess rose high to the sky with a quaint little branch off the main tower, the only spires visible from where Kat was found. The rest of the floors barely reached half that height.

The High Priestess was waiting for them at the top of the marble stairs. She didn't seem to have aged more than a few years instead of the decade and a half since Tuwana first saw her. She smiled when she saw the tiny Kat by her heir's side. "Good, you've found her. That is a good omen." Gesturing to one of her Priestesses, she addressed Kat. "Little one, you're training shall begin on the morrow. Go with Jeamoka, she will take care of you."

Unsure at first, Kat looked over at the younger and smiled shyly before allowing the woman to lead her away from Tuwana. Kat turned back after several paces and waved goodbye to her travelling companion.

Tuwana waved back before turning returning her attention to the High Priestess.

They took each other in in silence for many moments before the elder straightened. "Come," She beckoned, turning and leading the younger into the Temple proper. They crossed the Main Hall, which was a large space for perhaps hundreds of people to come pray in, and through hallways and eventually entering the Tower of the High Priestess. Where they travelled up to the topmost spire, and into the much higher side tower where there was a mirror on five sides of the ten sided room. There were also mirrors in the spaces between; the sun would in fact be beaming into one near sundown. The High Priestess took position near the very center of the floor, which stepped down before creating a slightly curved bowl. She looked to Tuwana and smiled. "Before you begin your training tomorrow, there is something that you need to know. Something that may affect how you feel about becoming the High Priestess or not."

~. ~. ~.

Baradun heaved himself over the ledge, grumbling obscenely about anti portal magic. With one last effort, he brought himself up onto the ledge of the cliff, rolling onto his back in exhaustion. He stayed there to catch his breath.

Minutes passed before Baradun finally moved to his side and pushed himself back onto her feet. He brushed off his now torn and ragged robes. The journey to the Ivory Tower had been more grueling then he'd thought, and now his cloths, skin and hair were all grimy from sweat and dirt.

When he looked back up, suddenly there was a tall aged man standing several feet from him.

He hadn't been there a second ago.

Standing straighter, Baradun returned the man's gaze. "I have survived the trip here; the Grandmaster says you must take me as your successor," he declared with his usual pompous air.

The man smirked. "The physical journey was not the test you must survive." His deep purple eyes gleamed as Baradun's smile faltered. "Though the Grandmaster thinks it is so; so your presumption can be forgiven as ignorance." He stamped his staff lightly on the ground. "Come." The High Sorcerer turned and started towards the tower standing tall and elegant behind him.

Baradun hurried to follow him. He wasn't sure why he was feeling foolish; the Grandmaster had given him the wrong impression after all. "Then what is the test… sir?" he asked, adding the respectful term when the man in front of him looked back with a raised eyebrow.

The High Sorcerer of Azerim sighed. The doors to the Tower opened wide, admitting them into a grand circular entranceway. Unlike Carlabor, which looked more like a tall palace, the Ivory Tower was a tower. It shot straight up with no additional buildings or structures. Across from the entrance, were twin staircases that wound up the inner sides of the tower to the next level; and presumably to the next and the next and the next, until it reached the top Observatory. There was also a smaller stairway that led down from the entrance; only noticed when the High Sorcerer approached it, for it seemed to blend in with the floor. "Come," was all he said before descending down.

"Right." Baradun said under his breath and followed the older man down. The descending stairs seemed to go on forever. Unlike the stairs leading up, which were open with just elegant banister's keeping them safe; these stairs were encased in stone on both sides, making it an unending tunnel down into the bowels of the mountain.

Then with surprising suddenness, the stairs ended, spilling into a small round room with a dark stone well in the center holding dark water looking fluid.

The High Sorcerer crossed to the other side of the well; the torches lighting at his presence. He waited as Baradun's eyes adjusted and he had taken in the contents of the room. "The test you must survive, Baradun Sairina'Tirmo, is the Truth."

~. ~. ~.

Surprised, Tuwana took a step towards the center, but staying on top of the steps. "What do you mean… becoming the High Priestess or not… you told me I was destined to become High Priestess after you."

"Yes," The older woman replied, "But this is the one and only time you will get to make a choice to become your Destiny… or deny it and live your life how you want."

A sudden vision of her abstaining and running to find Baradun suddenly filled her mind. Tuwana shook the image away. "Why?" Was all she could think of asking.

The High Priestess took a breath. "Because this is too important. If you decide after hearing this that you don't want to be my heir, the information will be wiped from your memory, but not your decision… and you will be allowed to follow where ever your heart leads you."

A cold wave seemed to wash over Tuwana as she looked at the seriousness on her mentor-to-be's face. "I won't remember what you tell me?"

"No… just this part and the part after where you give me your answer. All I tell you in between will be taken. For your own safety… and sanity."

Tuwana could feel her eye widen and her face pale. "Sanity?"

"Yes." After uttering that one word, the High Priestess smiled warmly. "But you are strong, Tuwana. I believe you can take this Truth. And when you ascend to take my place, you will be prepared for the… changes… that will come to pass when you do."

"By Day Nine…" Tuwana breathed as she turned and crossed to one of the windows, feeling the sudden need for air. She felt that tingling in her toes again, and knew the High Priestess was telling true; she was strong enough. And wasn't this what she wanted? To be the High Priestess and escape the prejudice and stigma for just being born? Hadn't she felt the gods themselves push her towards the Temple when she was seven, when this very woman summoned her family here? This was why she went to Carlabor to learn to control the magic she was given to make this stage of her training easier. Tuwana took a deep breath; filling her lungs with air scented by the sweet grass growing for miles around the Temple. She looked out towards the Mountains. Which ones, she didn't know, nor did she care; for she was awed at the sight of them. A moment more and she turned back to one of the most powerful women in Azerim; took those steps back to her and meeting her gaze. "Tell me."

The smile on the High Priestesses face deepened. "As you know, there are three primary aspects of Magic in the world of Azerim. Arcane, Nature, and Divine." She paused as her protégé nodded. "And that each High Magic is the direct avatar of their type of magic. High Sorcerer, High Druid, and High Priestess. We all are the most powerful in our magical Aspect, but all three of us are Equal to each other. As it has been since Time began."

Again, Tuwana nodded, this was basic magic theology 101.

"What no one knows… for good reason," the woman continued, "is that our world was constructed by a society of people… people who are much more advanced than us, but still people. Our world was created for the purpose of entertainment, and to assuage their need for fantasy and adventure. Azerim is what they call a multiplayer game. We are a simulation. We are what they call 'Non Playing Characters… or NPC's."

"What?"

The High Priestess paused, trying to think of how to best explain this Truth. "Think of Azerim like a sustained and extremely realistic caltrop. Complete with shadow characters; us. Sustained by machines and programed by numbers and equations. It is called Skycraft."

"So what does that mean?" Tuwana had a bad feeling about the answer.

"That in all intents and purposes… we are not real. Our world is not real." She grimaced. "Or… not supposed to be real."

After a moment, Tuwana realized what she was trying to say. She reeled for a moment, sinking to her knees. "Not real?" Taking in air seemed suddenly harder. "How can we not be real?"

"Reality is funny that way… I say we are not real… because we were not created by some sort of celestial being or extra planar entity while our world is filled with would be hero's from the world that created this one sprouting up from nothing and no land… but on the other hand..." The High Priestess spoke mostly to herself, and then refocused on Tuwana; crossing over to her and taking her hands, "Something happened that I don't think even the game developers realized happened… or even know about to this day." She locked eyes with the younger woman's, and saw comprehension there; and hope. "Sentience happened. This game… this simulated world is aware. This sentience resides in the very Magic of this World. And as such… the ones most powerful… most dedicated to their Magic become that Sentience. We are the Soul of Azerim. We are its Keepers and Guardians; real or not, that means something." She squeezed Tuwana's hands and pulled her into the center of the circular tower. The sun was nearly aligned.

~. ~. ~.

When the High Sorcerer was done talking, Baradun had to stumble to the nearest wall and leaned against it. It was as if a multitude of things suddenly made sense. Ordinary townsfolk who he used to think were simply stuck in a rut were actually programed to do and say the same things over and over and over. All never realizing it, or thinking it strange. After getting it all straight in his head, and suppressing the need to vomit, he turned to the High Sorcerer. "Can I have a night to think about this and let it all sink in?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't," the older man replied.

"And why not?"

The High Sorcerer shifted his hands into opposite sleeves and sighed; a sad sigh. "Because the last would be Apprentice asked for that same thing, and I granted it."

"And?" Baradun prompted.

After a heavy pause, his question was answered, "He died. Killed himself by slitting his own throat." He said; the brutal truth better then softened lies.

Shocked, Baradun didn't say anything for a long while. "Do you think I will kill myself?" he asked just as bluntly.

At that, the High Sorcerer gave Baradun a throughout look over. As if scanning his very being. What he found seemed to surprise and satisfy him. "No." he answered simply. "But I cannot, and will not take any chances. This is too important and I have waited far too long."

Somehow, the younger man understood. This was the meaning of life… their life, after all. Still… he had one more question before giving his ultimate answer. "What would happen if more people knew? Not everyone… but just a few ordinary folk?"

"No one knows." The High Sorcerer answered honestly. "It's never been done. The risks are too great to chance it. It could cause the game… the world… to simply… crash."

Baradun blinked. "Well… that's certainly a possibility…" He turned his back on the other man to think without those purple eyes staring at him. He'd done it… he was here at the Ivory Tower to be trained as the High Sorcerer. He had had no other goal but to be here for so long. To do anything else was an impossibility. Although… no, best not to think about could haves. His path was decided by him a long time ago. He knew there would be immense responsibility with the power of this position. Baradun was the only one strong enough to claim it. His mind settled, he turned back to his teacher. "If it pleases you, I would still like to become the High Sorcerer after you." He said solemnly, but couldn't help add, "Besides… High Sorcerer Baradun sounds too good not to happen." He smirked.

Surprisingly, the current High Sorcerer laughed.

~. ~. ~.

The High Priestess positioned them side by side. "So… what is your decision? Still want to become the High Priestess of Azerim?" she tried for a light tone, though they both sensed the stress in the older woman's words. She had waited patiently for this girl to get her magical training so that her real training; her Divine training, could begin.

The inner struggle seemed to have already been resolved, Tuwana reflected. While the Truth was bigger and far more frightening then she imagined it would be: she made her decision. Made it when she was seven, and again and again throughout her training. She even made it again just a few moments before the Truth was revealed. There was no point in turning back now, when she'd come so far. She looked over at the High Priestess who was suddenly looking very vulnerable. "Yes. I still wish to become the High Priestess… if you'll still have me."

Laughing, the High Priestess gave the woman a surprising hug. The relief was palpable. "Alright then! Get ready!"

Grinning at the transformation of the older woman before her, who now shone like a star, Tuwana unconsciously widened her stance. "Get ready for what?"

"For the Patch that will begin your training!" She answered just as the sun appeared through the western window; its light blaring into the room and bouncing off the mirrors in a sudden cacophony of light and color.

Then the light enveloped them and suddenly everything the High Priestess said made much more sense and the information she needed to begin blazed into her mind.


	4. PART TWO: The High Sorcerer (And the Farmer)

Backstory:  
The High Sorcerer, as gruff and recluse as he was, welcomed questions –as long as one was willing to answer one of his in return. The only exception was during lessons; Baradun could ask questions pertaining to the lesson, but no personal ones. Those would only be answered if asked during a meal. The High Sorcerer –called Rivian, insisted the morning and evening meals be taken together. Lunch; if it was remembered, could be eaten alone.   
During his first few years of Apprenticeship, Baradun only wanted to know about Magic and the World. He wasn’t in a hurry to learn about his teacher, or to have his teacher learn about him.  
Most of the lessons were focused on learning to use what the High Sorcerer Rivian called “gaymkod”; the magic that created Azerim. “The ones and zeros” his teacher would also say about them. It was only magic for the Three High Magi. While there were very few uses for it, the power was formidable and not to be misused or taken for granted. Rivian was teaching Baradun how to access the powers of gaymkod; the ability to use which had been given him in the “patch” Baradun got when he first came here; he was learning how to use it to portal himself and others anywhere he wanted. Normal magical portals could do the same –as long as one had already been to the destination; but if one got distracted while channeling said portal, it could send a person to the wrong place. Portals with gaymkod had no such negatives. As long as the place existed, one could go there. One could even use a person as a focus to get somewhere the traveler had not been to. It also needed less concentration.   
It took Baradun a week to even be able to access this “gaymkod” magic to focus into making a portal. He was not used to taking so long to get results out of magic. He found using this “world design” magic difficult and resented it. His teacher kept encouraging him, however, and never seemed concerned at Baraduns apparent slow progress. In fact, when Baradun had his first success, the High Sorcerer was surprised and very pleased. He even had Baradun open a portal by just thinking of one person.  
He used the first person to pop into his mind; the portal cracked open and he and his teacher went through the rip.   
They appeared at the outer boundaries of one of the magical Temples –in fact one of the Temples of the Three. Morisanore: The Temple of Divine Magic sat near dead middle of a very large valley between several mountain ranges. It was said this land was the most fertile on Azerim; their legends told it was one of the Nine birthplaces of life in Azerim.   
The High Sorcerer looked over at his student. “Why are we here? Who was it you thought of?”  
“A… friend… from Carlabor.” Baradun answered a bit unwillingly. “Shouldn’t it have taken us right to her?”  
“Each temple or tower dedicated to the three magic’s has shielding that prevents anyone uninvited or uninitiated from portaling straight in.” Rivian explained, slipping his hands into the opposing sleeves. “It has been a very long time since I’ve seen this place.” He mused, his gaze travelling passed the elegance of the palace like temple before them. “Not since she bade me leave…” his old and deep voice trailed off reminiscently.   
Casting a glance at his master, Baradun found himself finally wanting to know more about the man he would someday replace.   
~. ~. ~.  
It was several days later that Baradun got up the courage to ask his mentor a personal question. He decided that it would be while they were having their evening meal together.   
The High Sorcerer could feel his protégé’s eyes on him. After a few mouthfuls of stew, he leaned back and studied Baradun. “We can stay at this table all night if it would help the question to come out.”  
Baradun grinned a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, Master. I was just wondering…”  
“Yes?”  
“Are we allowed to have families?” he rushed the words out of his mouth before he lost his courage. Baradun wasn’t even sure why the question had become important; it sounded insane to ask even as the words were leaving his mouth.   
Positioning his hands in a steeple, the older man took a breath. “In your case, after you become the High Sorcerer, you may; but I advise caution, as the strong magic’s that come with the position will extend your life many fold,” he cautioned.   
“Oh.” Baradun shifted his food around. “Do you have a family?” He forced himself to continue to eat while waiting on the answer.  
Rivian’s brows rose, and it was his turn to pause. He picked up his spoon once more, but did not scoop more stew. “I did. A wife, a son, and a daughter.”  
“What happened to them?” asked Baradun, noticing the tense used.   
“Well… my wife died before I became High Sorcerer, my daughter became a druid, and my son went off and had a family of his own.”  
Baradun was about to ask how old he was, but kept the words in, not wanting to insult the man who he actually admired; no easy feat.  
The High Sorcerer saw the question nevertheless. “I am three hundred and two years old. I was seventy four when I became High Sorcerer. The oldest to even be given the chance by my predecessor.” He said proudly. Rivian gave his student a shrewd look. “As you are the youngest. I had to apprentice and Journey many more years than you to wait for my eventual call to becoming High Sorcerer. Consider your timing lucky.” He chuckled, twirled the spoon in his hand and put it in his bowl. “What of you, my Apprentice, have you family?”  
Looking down, Baradun moved pieces of stew around in the bowl. “If you mean parents, I didn’t really have any. The closest parental figure I had was the man who says he bought me as payment for my parent’s debts.” He sighed, “Then, at ten years old, I did magic while trying to get away from a Sorceress I’d pick pocketed. She caught me and took me to Carlabor. Haven’t looked back since.” He answered in a defiant tone. After a moment he looked up to see his Master still studying him. “What?”  
“How much of that was truth?”  
Baradun grinned. “Enough of it.”  
At that High Sorcerer Rivian chuckled. “Eat, Baradun, the night is clear and we should take advantage of the starlight.” He instructed and the two of them continued their meal.  
~. ~. ~.  
High Sorcerer Baradun hadn’t been to the Temple of Carlabor since his Ascension Ceremony to High Sorcerer of Azerim. That was nearly a decade past. Nor was he here on business; this was something personal. The Tower kept records of every high status magic user and their family line.  
There was something he wanted to do for his late teacher.  
~. ~. ~.  
Azerim was his to explore and protect, and the High Sorcerer was determined to see as much of it as he could!  
Baradun was strolling confidently down an old dirt road when the sounds of metal on metal came to him. So he sauntered towards them in hopes for something more interesting than gravel. Sure enough he came upon a man fighting several monsters with no weapon but a small sword and a flimsy shield. The man was about to get flanked by one monster when Baradun decided to even the field. He threw a fire bolt at the creature, setting it ablaze. It ran off squealing, the sound eventually cutting off after another fire bolt hit it.   
When Baradun turned back to the main fighting, the rest were already scattered on the ground and the man was drinking a potion. “Well done Adventurer!” he complimented while going up to the man.   
The man himself seemed just in his prime, but certain wrinkles suggested he was older than he looked. “Thanks for the assist, my lord! But I’m no Adventurer. Just protecting my village from these brutes!” He emphasized his words by kicking the nearest corpse before turning back to the sorcerer. “May I have the name of the man who saved me from being skewered by a dishonorable villain?”   
After taking a moment to keep from laughing at the way this man talked, Baradun obliged. “I am High Sorcerer Baradun, at your service sir!” He added a sweeping bow just to match the level of eloquence and fan fair this man had in his speech. Straightening, he found strangely familiar eyes studying him.  
“High Sorcerer hu?” The man sheathed his sword and held out his hand. “Name’s Caedous,” they shook each other’s hands, but Caedous’ strong grip didn’t release, “I’m the grandson of the High Sorcerer before you.”  
The moment the man had introduced himself, Baradun already knew who he was. He was just not expecting to meet Rivian’s family under these circumstances. “Yes… your father was Gerald. Master Rivian told me.” He took stock of the bodies around him before back to Caedous. “My condolences for the loss of your grandfather.”  
Caedous shrugged. “Becoming High Sorcerer didn’t give Rivian much time for family; and we did all right without him.” He let go of the new High Sorcerer’s hand. “Come, please let me give you the hospitality of my home and table to pay you back. You didn’t have to intervene.”  
“Oh, I couldn’t impose…” He was sure there was better foods waiting for him at his Tower anyway.  
“Please.” Caedous entreated. “My son and his wife would love to meet you. I’m always telling them of my adventures, and I’m none too sure they believe me. You can set them straight.” He said with a laugh.  
Baradun relented. “Where is your home?”  
“Just beyond the river in the town of Honeywood. Come.”


	5. Post Launch

None of it happened. None of it was real. It was just coding. Backstory.   
This life was not real.   
The High Sorcerer Baradun of Azerim tried to block out these darker thoughts even as he recruited yet another Adventurer to the quest to the Capital city of Gerdawn. “The world needs you, Adventurer! I, High Sorcerer Baradun, have come from the High Temple of Carlabor to send you a message and help you upon your way.” When the player stepped up, he would continue; “The world is in trouble, the Light of Day Nine is fading and only you can help. You must journey forth from this small town to the city of Gerdawn. Do you accept –?”  
“Yep! Accept!” The roguish male adventurer declared and shifted to his side, ready to be transported.   
“Thank you, Adventurer! Now let us journey forth from this small town and embark on much more important quests!” After finishing his spiel, he looked over at the garlic farmer; grandson of Caedous, and only saw a smiling, yet vacant, expression on the NPC’s face. With a sigh, he transported this latest Adventurer to Gerdawn, and then Baradun would await either the next stage of the quest line, or for the next adventurer to begin the one he just had this rogue start.   
Which would happen over and over and over.   
It was starting to get pretty boring.  
That’s when it came to him. Baradun could still interact with the others at some level; maybe, using gaymkod and logic, he could snap others out of this “NPC sleep” and wake them up to the reality of their world. He would have more people to talk to other than PC’s, and may even liven up the quest giving.   
He knew just the right person to try this on too!  
Baradun teleported back to the starting territory that held Honeywood; erupting in front of the NPC Greg the Garlic Farmer and went up to him. “Greetings Farmer.”  
“Ah, Hello! How may I help you today?” Greg greeted in his usual upbeat, and rather annoying, manner.   
High Sorcerer Baradun took a breath and gripped his prized staff tighter. “I was wondering where you’re sheep have gone.”  
“Oh, they have run amok! I am hoping to find a brave Adventurer to find them for me!” Greg answered.  
“How long has it been since you have seen your sheep? And for that matter… where is the pen you put them in?” He asked the farmer.   
Greg paused. “Well… they are penned by the farm. Unfortunately they have run amok.”  
“Yes… you’ve said that. Where is your farm? Where do you plant your garlic, Garlic Farmer?” Baradun persisted.   
The farmer put down his hand, which he’d held up all this time. “I … I… I don’t know.” Something emerged from within his eyes; a light of life. With a little push with gaymkod, Baradun helped the farmer truly awaken. Greg looked at Baradun, really looked at him. “All I’ve ever really known for so long… is standing here… helping Adventurers and selling my wares. I’ve never seen past this town in so long…” He looked around, taking in the surroundings and really seeing them. Greg gave Baradun a beseeching look. “What is going on?”  
“This is a game, Garlic Farmer.” Baradun told him, gesturing around them. “This world is not real. Our lives are not ours to control… I have woken you up to that knowledge.”  
Greg timidly took one step then another passed where his usual stance was; suddenly thrilled to have journeyed that far from his chosen place. “It all felt so normal…” He spun around, now as fully aware as an NPC like him could be. He still felt the pull to go back to his spot; to sell wares that never seemed to touch his hands, or the hands of others, yet passing betwixt them all the same. He looked up and saw a big golden exclamation point over his head. “What is that?”  
Baradun had been watching Greg, hoping that he was truly aware now; Greg noticing his quest giver status confirmed he was as woke as he could be without Baradun’s advantage of being a Sorcerer of the High Arcane magic’s. “That is what separates you from the rest. The others only have certain steps they take, certain scripts they say, but many don’t get to do anything beyond that. You, on the other hand, can truly interact with others, especially players. Those Adventurers who come to you for quests. That’s what tells them you are special.” He may be laying it on thick, but who cared.   
“Wow.” Greg uttered, turning back to Baradun. “Thank you, High Sorcerer. Thank you for showing me this. How can I repay you?”  
Somehow those words, once uttered in his backstory, struck something in the High Sorcerer. “Come with me.” He said impulsively. “Come with me, and we can have adventures together! We don’t need the players to do things for us, we can do them ourselves!” Baradun held out his hand to the farmer. “Come with me, and I can show you the world.”   
At that, Greg frowned. “But that would mean leaving Honeywood. This is my home. My Grandfather fought to protect it.”  
“This town is nothing, Greg.” Baradun insisted. “It is small and insignificant. I can show you much better towns. Cities even! I can take you to the Temple of Carlabor, or the Harbors of Vikendi, where they berth the greatest fleet in all the realms. Come.”  
With his new found awareness, came empathy. Greg could see the desperation in the High Sorcerer’s eyes, but could not find it in him to abandon this town. It needed him. The adventurers who came here needed him! “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”  
Baradun snatched back his hand. “Fine.” Then, in a piercing rip as time and space was torn, a portal appeared and Baradun disappeared into it.   
Greg went back to his spot, calmly waiting for the next Adventurer to come through his town, in need of quests, guidance, and equipment. Even still; everything was different. He noticed when the hero’s declared “skip”, interrupting him and prompting him to go on to the next paragraph of his quest. He noticed Baelin circled around and around the town; sometimes seemingly being in two places at once. Baelin also only said maybe two lines… and was very annoying with those two lines.   
He even noticed strange occurrences with the Adventurers-the players.   
Still… Greg continued, patiently and vigilant in his duties as Quest Giver.   
~. ~. ~.  
Every now and then, The High Sorcerer didn’t have to cater to the endless list of “Hero’s” and “Adventurers” who became legible to take on the Gerdawn quest line. When that happened, Baradun felt free to wander the countryside. He liked to ponder on his place in Azerim and enjoyed the prestige that came with being one of the very few who could really see this world as it really was.   
Baradun came upon a small forest stream and paused near its bank. It was an oddly tranquil moment, broken only by a resigned sigh. “I know you’re there. What do you want?”  
The soft footfalls and gentle glide of fabric was the only sound of her approach. “I didn’t want to disturb you… you seemed at peace.” After so many years, Tuwana’s voice hadn’t changed much; though perhaps it came quietly. As if too much volume would ruin its soothing affects.   
“I take it you’re here because of the changes in the ones and zeros?” He asked without turning to look at her. Baradun knew she was at his side, but felt hesitant to actually look at his Divine magic counterpart. With their history little more than backstory-regulated to rare flashbacks for the expense of the Players understanding, he wasn’t sure if even the term “friend” was appropriate for their connection to one another. One day that issue would need to be acknowledged, but for now, neither seemed in a rush to define anything.  
Tuwana nodded, a motion that he could catch from the corner of his eyes. “My Expansion is coming… and I feel very unprepared for it.”  
“How so?”  
“Even though it is not Live yet… the effects are already appearing in my home land. The portents do not bode well.” Tuwana continued with a shiver.   
The High Sorcerer shrugged. “It’s ultimately out of your control. All you can do is get you’re Adventurers where ever you can get them.” He finally looked over at her. “Take me for example. To those players, the world needs them to correct what is happening. It might take some longer than others, but the quest line always gets done and peace and balance is always restored. So you can get Hero’s at the lowest tier of your Expansion, and be confident that your land is going to be saved.” Baradun shrugged again and turned back to the water. “Trust me… after a while, it becomes more and more routine and you’ll stop worrying.”  
There was a long moment of silent; so long that Baradun started to wonder if she had gone. A sidelong glance showed him that she was still standing next to him, now looking over the water in contemplation.   
Abruptly, Tuwana turned around, looking back the way she’d approached. “If you saw all the NPC’s under your care the way you see that Garlic Farmer, I doubt that you would find yourself able to stop worrying.” She didn’t move when he looked at her with a startled expression. “Thank you for the advice. I’ll leave you too your meditations.” With that, she took a few steps away before the crack of a portal sounded and she vanished through it.  
Little did Baradun realize, or even consider, that Tuwana’s “Westland Expansion” would overlap with some of his own quest giving. Unfortunately for him, Tuwana did.  
~. ~. ~.  
Many expansions later…  
Recruiting players into his questline was always tedious and predictable. The only enjoyment Baradun got was when he got to do it in Honeywood and could once more stress how boring and shitty the town was to Greg. He was still set on taking Greg on an adventure; one without relying on a Player to guide them on an invisible string like cattle. If only the Farmer could see the truth: the PC’s didn’t care and his absence would not be missed. So he was free to do anything he dared dream!  
For some reason, all Baradun’s attempts met with strong resistance.   
Still, Baradun knew he had all the time in the multiverse to try –another thing Greg did not understand.  
Yet again an Adventurer triggered the beginning of the High Sorcerer’s guild line, so in a crack of gymekod magic, Baradun appeared and began his impressive –best in the world –speech! “The world needs you again Adventurer! You must leave this small, insignificant town, and travel with me to the Tree of Life!”  
Before the player could accept, Baradun could feel a glitch and a spike in the gaymkod and a moment later the player had disappeared! Then he heard two rending cracks as two portals appeared. Out of them came the High Druid Sevastien of Azerim, of which has been High Druid far longer than Baradun had been High Sorcerer. Out of the other portal was none other than High Priestess Tuwana, the half elf whose expansion overlapped many of his own main quests; and shared part of his backstory.   
He looked over at Greg, who was looking at the three of them as if star struck, but trying to compose himself in the presence of such prestige. Greg also liked Tuwana, another point of contention since that expansion went live. Grudgingly, Baradun looked back at the only other two who truly knew the truth about Azerim and their circumstances. Perhaps in other instances, their appearance would have been a breath of fresh air, but judging by their expressions, they weren’t here to shoot the breeze. The High Druid Sevastien was average height and wiry; and mostly human –except for his quarter Faun inheritance, which meant more faunish legs as well as elegant twisting horns high on his forehead. His blue grey eyes flashed as he greeted Baradun. A more genuine smile was given to Tuwana; which made Baradun want to tug that arrogant goatee of his so hard it came off. “We need to talk, High Sorcerer.” The High Druid stated, turning back to the other man.  
High Priestess Tuwana scoffed. “Seva.” She said his nickname like a reprimand before shifting her gaze to the other. “Greetings High Sorcerer Baradun. Forgive us for this interruption.” Tuwa addressed Baradun with a definite formal air.  
Fine; he’ll play nice. “Greetings returned, High Priestess. I am at your disposal; my time is yours.” He tried matching her formality, though much of it sounded forced in his ears.   
“Thank you, that’s most gracious.” Tuwana smiled. She took a breath –while casting Seva a look of caution, before continuing, “We have come to talk to you about something of great importance.” Another glance, this time at Greg the Garlic Farmer who was watching by his hut.   
Baradun willed himself not to clench his jaw and instead put on his most amused of facial expressions. “About what?” He replied, perhaps harder than he intended. It wasn’t her fault their backstories were written the way they had been.  
“About how you’ve been treating the Non Playing Characters.” Tuwana continued, opting out of using the acronym, as if it would make them seem less like just paths of code.   
Baradun twirled his staff absently. “What do you mean? I haven’t been mistreating any NPC’s.” He choose to ignore the not so subtle cough from Greg. “Why would either of you think I was?”  
Sevastien smirked and crossed his arms. He’d never seen the need to carry his focus or magical tools everywhere he went. “Come on. We know you have been trying to make them more aware of the fact that they live in a game. To “wake” them up.” He commented, complete with making the quotation mark sign with his hands before refolding his arms. “We know you’ve done it with this Garlic Farmer-.”  
“And the Blacksmith.” Tuwana interjected with a late apologetic look at the High Druid.  
The High Druid nodded his horned head and gave Tuwana a cocky smile, “And the Blacksmith. I’m sure there are more you have been able to “wake up”. We’re here to tell you that continuing this is ill advised. Do you not understand that it is affecting the balance of this world?” His tone and eyes turned serious as he talked.  
At that, Baradun surprised even himself by laughing. After a moment it died away and he took a couple steps towards the Druid; pushing his hood off his head as he did so. “Oh, this is a ‘world’ now? When did that happen?” He asked bitterly, “I thought this was a game created by a people who have nothing better to do than play at being hero’s? A game where none of us here, are actually real.” He emphasized with a wave of his hand. “So some NPC’s know they’re NPC’s and exert their power of that knowledge to gain a little more freedom.”  
“Baradun…” Tuwana tried to put both warning and empathy into her tone, but only got a glare from the High Sorcerer.   
“Real or not, we still have a duty to the Spark of Life that was inadvertently created at the launch of this game.” Seva insisted, “And that Spark has been reacting to each NPC you bring to Conscious-ness. We’re afraid,” the High Druid indicated himself and Tuwana, “That it could cause a cascade of events leading to a system crash, and Azerim’s destruction.”  
The High Sorcerer shook his head and scoffed. “There’s no proof that that’s what would happen. You’re both over exaggerating the affects this could have. There’s nothing to worry about. Nothing has happened so far, and there’s no reason to assume something will ever happen.”  
Tuwana took a breath and pinched her fingers over the bridge of her nose. “Do you even hear yourself, Baradun?” She took another breath and squared her shoulders as she met his gaze again. “Are you really willing to take that chance… just so that you’re no longer bored?” She said rather incredulously. She would take boredom over what cycle of death and destruction she had to deal with over and over. Part of her even wished the game would crash so she wouldn’t have to watch her handmaidens die again and again.   
Baradun looked over at Tuwana while remaining near toe to toe with the Druid. “There are many other conclusions much more likely to happen then a crash.” He looked back at the part faun as if daring him to say otherwise.   
High Priestess Tuwana put herself physically between the two men and pushed them apart. “We are in this together, no matter the outcome.” She looked towards Seva, “We did not come to judge or make accusing claims.” Then she turned towards Baradun, “We came to tell you what affect you’re having on the Spark. Neither of us knew if you were aware of it or not. You only use game code to teleport… and to wake NPC’s… we use it more regularly. We’ve noticed a change.” Tuwana sighed and approached the High Sorcerer. “Whether you admit it or not, even if our backstories didn’t in fact happen, the truth is it still impacts who we are.” She held out her hand, palm up, towards him. “I know who you are, Baradun. Even if you no longer know who you are. You’re a good person. Help us figure out what’s happening. Help us find out if it’s a good thing, or bad. Please.”  
For a moment, he was tempted. Unfortunately that ostentatious stubborn streak of his won out. “I know who I am. I am Baradun, High Sorcerer of Azerim.” He replied, ignoring her hand. “And I don’t need this…” He turned and with a wave of his staff, tore through time and space; disappearing when it snapped shut.   
From behind Tuwana, Sevastien circled to face her. He took her still out stretched hand in his and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “We tried. It’s all we knew we could do.” It wasn’t until she focused on him that he realized that the High Priestess was mad.   
“I can’t believe that… that… That arrogant, ego driven, self-righteous, damnable mother fu-.” She began, snapping her hand away from the Druid, though he simply placed that hand over her mouth.   
Seva grinned. “Children play this, High Priestess.” He chided good naturedly. He grinned even more when she tried to tell him to fuck off. While all three of them had questlines that entwined with each other –especially now with Tuwana’s expansion to her half of the world, Seva and Tuwana maintained a friendly correspondence outside of the game mechanics. He’d rarely seen her this irate. It was quite amusing. “Be calm, High Priestess.”  
After one more glare, Tuwana made the effort to take a deep breath and used the exhale to blow out all her frustration. Only then did the High Druid free her mouth. “Thank you.”  
“As funny as it is to hear you swear, Tuwa, I feel duty bound to keep the ears of noob and child players innocent.” Seva jested.  
Tuwana shook her head. “No. For coming with me. Our backstories didn’t separate on the best terms, and it makes things tense between me and Baradun.”  
The High Druid brushed it off. “Just because each of us holds an Aspect of the Spark, doesn’t mean we’ll always get along. This involves all of us; we’ve reminded him of his responsibility. Let him mope a bit. All we can do now is watch him and try to predict what the Spark will do.” He took her hand once more. “Unfortunately, I must depart. Always a pleasure, my dear.” He gave her hand another kiss before backing into a sudden rip of his own and vanishing.   
Once he was gone, Tuwana took another deep breath. Once centered, she looked abruptly at Greg. “Forgive us for imposing on your sweet little town, Greg. Baradun tends to be here often, so…”  
Flustered, the farmer waved her apology away. “Think nothing of it, Priestess.”  
At that, she smiled and walked up to him. “Please, call me Tuwana.”  
“Sure thing.”  
Taking a moment, Tuwana gave him a once over. He seemed his usual fidgety self, but something felt off for some reason. “How much of what just transpired do you understand?”  
Greg sighed and shrugged. “Baradun is doing things he isn’t supposed to do, and it could mean we all die?”  
“Yes, I suppose that is the most succinct way to put it.” Tuwana gripped her staff sub-consciously. “That’s one way it could go.” She gave him a reassuring glance. “Try not to worry about it. Seva and I will make sure that scenario does not happen.” Tuwana was still giving him a searching look. “How are you feeling? Any odd occurrences since Baradun… woke you up?” she asked, “Any lost time? Black outs? Random teleportation?”  
That made Greg balk and he shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure what you mean.”  
“Ever just ‘wake up’ and find yourself someplace different, with an item in your hand, or doing something you weren’t just doing a moment before?” She pressed.  
Greg scoffed, “nope! I feel perfectly fine.”  
Tuwana studied him a moment more. She wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, or was just that he could be unaware of occurrences if they did happen. With a resigned sigh, she gave Greg another smile. “Alright. Please let me know if you ever do experience any of those things. Good day to you, Farmer.”  
“Have a good day as well!” Greg bade, with his patented wave.  
With that, there was nothing more for Tuwana to do but to vanish as well.  
Somewhere in Honeywood, a fisherman was expressing his pleasure of the great day it was for fishing. A blacksmith was creating the Set of Argon for an Adventurer, and a Garlic Farmer waited eagerly for a Hero to come and help him find a new bucket… or his sheep… or kill his rat infestation.  
~ ~ ~  
At the Temple of Carlabor, however, the beginnings of fate stirred.   
Needing an outlet, Baradun had gone to his friend, Terrance, to vent. It started with a play by play of the untimely Intervention of Tuwana and Sevastien at Honeywood. How it was absurd to think waking NPC’s could cause the world to vanish without a trace. Skycraft was hardier than that! The Spark could take it. And he was just trying to enrich the lives of those who lived here. Why did the visiting Players always get to have the freedom to live and express themselves as they liked? Why couldn’t the NPC’s?  
From there it went on for perhaps an hour. Baradun had been holding it all in since Launch –since the true realization of what it meant to be the High Sorcerer really dawned on him. Nothing before the point of Launch had happened. His whole history was just a story. Everyone’s’ was.   
It was a relief to get it all out. In retrospect… perhaps he should have been saying all this to Tuwana… or even Day Nine forbid, the High Druid.   
For when he turned back to the Grandmaster of Magic, Terrance, he was jolted to see his friend merely giving him a simple smile. “Terrance?”  
“Hello High Sorcerer! What can I help you with today?”  
It felt like all the emotions in him came to the surface all at once, and Baradun had to work to bring it all down so that he didn’t break the game out of spite. The need for Terrance to understand was too great, though, so Baradun gave in to the impulse. He leaned his hands on Terrance’s desk and gave his backstory friend an intense look. “I’m here to do something for you, my friend.”  
Terrance’s gnomish face lit up. “Excellent!”  
“I thought, the reason you came to Carlabor all those years ago… was to find a way to bring back the family that you lost.” Baradun focused some gymekod magic into his words. “What have you done lately to help you with that goal? Are you any closer to a solution?”  
“Why… no… I guess my duties have been keeping me busy.” Terrance answered.  
Baradun shook his head. “All you’ve done, these past few years, is sit behind this desk. You don’t even have Adventurers come talk to you. Here, alone, you sit. Never moving. Never researching. You haven’t done anything for a long… long time.”  
The elder gnome blinked his eyes and a sudden silence overcame the Grandmaster. “No one comes to see me…” He uttered, mostly to himself. “I have been doing nothing…” For a moment, it seemed that the spark appeared in Terrance’s eyes as the realization overcame him. Then it dimmed once more, and the vacant smile appeared once more on his face as Terrance looked back at Baradun. “I wish I could chat, but I have much to do today!” He dismissed Baradun with almost a robotic flick of his hand.   
“Damn it.” Baradun cussed and swept out of the room. He was too distraught to portal. He needed to walk, and spend some of his frustration doing so.   
Back in the Chamber of the Grandmaster; Terrance was giving the door that had been slammed when Baradun left, as look as if it would suddenly break into song and dance. After an indefinite amount of time, Terrance seemed to relax into his seat. That spark returned to his eyes. He looked around, as if seeing everything for the first time after a very long trip. Then he took out a key that was tied to a string around his neck and used it to open one of the drawers in his desk. He took the contents out and placed it reverently on his desk.   
It was the tomb of High Necromancy. The forbidden magic.


	6. The Beginning :

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PART THREE: The Grandmaster and the World of Azerim;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following is (mostly) the original work of Robert Hartley, VLDL’s DM. See Patreon videos for this session in its original, glorious form!

The loading screen.  
The player sees an image of a green dragon fighting three adventurers as the loading bar inches forwards. Helpful tips tick past on the bottom of the screen: Low on health? Eat some bread!  
Finally the loading screen disappears and a small medieval town renders at the edge of a forest. In the center of the screen there’s a group of three adventurers; a noble Centurion man, a swarthy swashbuckling woman, and a nondescript Rogue. A squirrel pops up from the bottom of the screen, telling us that this starting location is a town called Honeywood.  
The game fully renders and the gaming can now begin. Immediately the Rogue goes off on his own while the Centurion and Swashbuckler head to the town proper to stock up on supplies. The rogue finds the hut of a topless Scotsman with rippling muscles and a body of a Greek Adonis; a body only to be achieved by years of mastering the hard craft that is blacksmithing. The Centurion approaches a forgettable faced garlic farmer, dressed humbly and standing in front of a thatched farmhouse. “Hello Adventurer!” The NPC begins in a peculiar accent, before being cut off by the sound of an arcane renting of the fabric of space. A portal opens and out steps a caped and mysterious man clad in dark hooded robes and gloves; equipped with a magic staff. The swashbuckler approaches this man. “Adventurer!” the Sorcerer begins, addressing the lady before he too is interrupted. This time by a loud “BONG” error noise ringing through the air.  
The three adventurers glitch, twitch and freeze in place.  
Looking up, the garlic farmer notices an enormous hovering error window floating above the lake opposite his home. It reads: AI9 corrupted file. Attempting restart. A moment later the screen flashes white and the error message is gone.  
The game continues, only not quite as before. Greg finds himself standing in front of his house but facing inwards, towards the Centurion now standing in his place with his exclamation point above his head, his finger raised. “Hello Adventurer! Welcome to the town of Honeywood!” he says.  
It is an inexplicable feeling; nothing physical has changed seemingly, but Greg feels different inside; like he could walk around freely. He could go anywhere and interact with anything. Hell, if he was in town, maybe Greg could even have a hot air balloon ride!  
The thought occurs to the garlic farmer to walk over to Bodger’s hut and rub it in his face that Greg’s a free man now; but as he turned to look over the lake, he sees that Bodger is in the same position with his Rogue. Even Baradun is now looking back at the pirate lady standing inside of his portal, orating the importance of assisting her with finding her missing spell book.  
The three of them catch each other’s eyes. They are free men.  
As they were processing the sudden events, they hear a bell start ringing, a hand bell. Looking down the way, they see a large rotund man dressed in red with a tri-corner hat on. The town crier is reading from a scroll, and he reads as follows: “Farmer Summer’s sheep are running amok! Mendon Longbridge offers reward for the return of her booklet! Alchemist Jor requires flowers for a new potion…” and on he goes, reading off the things that need doing.  
As he is reading, the trio suddenly hear a scuffling and a sort of scurrying sound under the ground. The dirt separates and large rats start appearing from all over the town. Chaos insues as the villagers run to the safety of their houses! A few of them run over to the town crier and start biting at his ankles. “Rats infest Honeywood! They-they kill the town crier! Reward offered for their slaughter…” The crier uses his last breath to encourage his revenge as he succumbs to his injuries and falls to the ground. He disappears, leaving behind a bell and a scroll of “quests”.  
Without a meal, the rats start approaching the farmer, sorcerer, and blacksmith. Bodger, however, is alone by his blacksmiths hut, while Greg was still by his own home with Baradun across the path from him, closer to the lake. A couple of the rats went after each of them; with a particular large rat running towards the Garlic Farmer.  
Bodger didn’t seem too concerned by the rats coming for him, so he simply raised a booted foot and stomped on its head. The rats head caves in and digs into the ground. Impulsively, Bodger went after the other rat with his hands; meeting together in the middle and getting a hold of the creature. With it squirming frantically in his hands, the blacksmith uses his teeth to chomp down on the rat’s neck. The feel of blood at the back of his throat and the tearing of viscera invokes instant regret and Bodger throws the dead body to the ground.  
Across the lake, Baradun watches in disgust and horror as the tall muscular man chomps down on the rat. “Yee---uuuk! Eww! Ew!” he yells, unable to help himself.  
The blacksmith looks as though he is just, if not more, disgusted at his actions. He didn’t know why he did that… it seemed to work fine the first time when he stomped it; he should have just stuck with that. Why did he do that? He wipes the sinew that’s dripping from his mouth off and shudders.  
Meanwhile, the rats going for Greg try their luck in latching onto the Farmer, but fortunately, as they run at him, the farmer manages to dive out of the way of the big teeth coming for him. Another tried for Baradun, but has even less luck getting to the Sorcerer. A big nasty looking rat tries for Baradun as well and just misses as he misjudged the speed and distance to the dark haired man. As he came at him, the Sorcerer is able to bring his staff down and block the rat.  
Greg, overwhelmed by events, turns around and tries to get passed the Centurion and back into his hut, where he should be safe from these rats. The Centurion has other ideas and began blocking Greg’s way; moving in front of him from side to side. Thwarted, Greg quickly came up with a different plan. He thought maybe he could distract the rats by throwing something. So he digs through his bag, which seemed to hold a fair store full of things. He’s able to pull out some rotten meat. Greg struggled with where he would through said meat for a moment, before deciding to throw the meat towards Bodger, figuring the blacksmith handled his own rats well, he could handle these too.  
The High Sorcerer of Azerim had his own worries, but he had a simple solution to how to deal with the three rats. With a wave of his staff, Baradun opens up a horizontal portal underneath the rats between him and Greg, and while hoping to get all three, he was only able to get the two closest to him. The Rat King was able to scuttle away from the portal. The Sorcerer was also hoping to get the rats all the way to Bodger’s hut, but because he had to do the spell in a hurry, he was only able to get them thirty feet away. It was enough. The rats arrive from the cracking blue portal which opens up closer to Bodger, confused for only a moment before refocusing on the new target.  
Seeing these rats appear by magic portal, Bodger looks over at Baradun real quick; at this character that he’s actually never met before. “Fuck you, lad!” He gets out before he needs to focus his attention on the rats once more. He sees the rats coming for him, and making the definite decision not to bite any of them, he decides to use his trusty hammers instead of stomping them. He moves towards the creatures and swings one hammer after another; caving in one of the rats skulls like the first and with his offhand knocks the other rat, now also dead, towards the lake edge. Bodger doesn’t know who the ostentatiously dressed magic user is, but he doesn’t like him.  
The one rat who Greg successfully distracted with the meat, after going for it, sees a much larger hunk of meat walking around and decides to try to take a bite out of it instead. While the blacksmith is distracted, the rat grabs onto his shin and its large incisors sinks into Bodger’s flesh.  
“Ah! Fuck you, Greg!” Bodger shouts as the pain shoot up his body.  
The King Rat takes this opportunity to try to attack the Garlic Farmer. While the King is able to get a hold of Greg, the farmer’s baggy pants make it difficult to judge where skin starts, so he is only able to get a weak bite of the farmer’s leg.  
Without thinking, Greg turned to the one person he thought he would never ask for help from. Screaming desperately, he looks to Baradun, “I’m in a real bad, tight spot!”  
Baradun sighs, thinking he was about to be free and clear, but he knew he couldn’t leave the farmer to the munchies of the Rat King of Dara’shirv’arvana. “Fuck. Okay. You want me to help, fine. Just stand there, stand there. Okay. Now I’m gonna take over, I’m gonna take charge of the situation.” The farmer nodded frantically, eyes wide. A plan evolves in the sorcerers mind. “Now… we got to work together. We’re gonna work together. What I need is the Ring of Dormor. I need that.”  
Frustrated, Greg was greatly disappointed that Baradun was asking for a price for his help. “What?! Right now?” he asks incredulously.  
“I need the ring!”  
“Why can’t you just help me and I’ll get you the ring afterwards?” Greg insisted.  
The High Sorcerer had a plan, or at least the starting of one. “Just give me the ring and I’ll show you what I’m gonna do-.”  
“You’re not prioritizing things properly…”  
“I’m not explaining my plan to you, give me the ring,” Baradun stressed, knowing they were quickly running out of time to act.  
Greg shakes his head while trying to suppress a visceral scream, but gives in and starts rummaging through his bag of things. Which does seem to have a wide assortment of items, even though it’s a relatively small bag. He looks and looks, knowing the Rat King is only still because of its own morbid curiosity at the moment, but he cannot, for the life of him, find that damn ring! He looks at Baradun, partly with frustration and partly with despair, “Can’t find it… don’t know if I’ve even got the ring in here.”  
Baradun grunts in annoyance. “You’ve literally got hundreds of them.”  
“It’s one of a kind.” Greg gives Baradun a startled and hurt look.  
“Okay, you’ve made it significantly more difficult for me, as it was going to help me do an epic fire spell and damage.” Baradun admitted haughtily.  
Between them, the Rat King sort of sits back on his haunches, waiting for them to finish; amused at the bickering.  
Greg glares at Baradun from the far distance of two meters, making it clear he’s angry at the Sorcerer.  
The High Sorcerer is equally flustered about not getting the ring. Still, he is determined to do the fire spell, even without the ring to make it big and mighty. Baradun focuses on the large rat who would call himself a King, and conjured a ball of fire in the palm of his hand. Focusing his sudden anger at the farmer, he threw it at the arrogant bastard just sitting there! When the rat virtually explodes, the rest of Baradun’s angst went into a wind spell for good measure. Just to make sure, what blood and guts did not make it naturally all over Greg, still would hit him.  
Stunned, shocked, and with blood dripping from his brow, Greg continued to shoot daggers at Baradun. After a moment, Greg registers what just happened and shudders. “Ew yuck!” He exclaims as he looks himself over.  
That leaves only one rat left for Bodger to deal with. The blacksmith goes to hammer the rat like the others previous, but the rat moves just so and avoids having his head crushed. Instead Bodger is only able to break the rat’s hind legs. Even crippled, the rat seemed determined to take a piece of the blacksmith. The last thing the rat does, is get a bite out of Bodger, though perhaps not as big as it wanted; before Bodger lines up another swing and ends its life.  
The battle over, the trio takes stalk of their situation. Greg tries to wipe off the blood from himself. In usual game fashion, each rat seems to leave something behind which include odd items such as a dark phoenix fur coat, some rope, and even some sausages. One rat left behind some a parchment with a recipe and ingredients a blacksmith like Bodger would enjoy trying; as well as some old armor he could possibly smelt down or even repair. The Rat King, of course, left behind Baradun’s spell book, much to the Sorcerer’s surprise and delight. Though Greg glanced at the book at his feet with much speculation.  
It’s not long until they hear the sound of the mayor of Honeywood, Mayor Ruby, coming down the lane over to them. “Oh thank you adventurers!” She starts talking even though she is nowhere near them yet, “I really, really, do appreciate it, the rats were everywhere, but you’ve finished off the majority of them. With the death of the Rat King, it seems that the rest of them are burrowing underground. What-whatever can I do to repay-.” Even as she is speaking, the others become distracted by unexpected movement from the carcasses around them. They start to shake and the broken bones of the ones they killed crack loudly back into position.  
“No!” Greg mutters in horror as there are yet more grotesque noises all around, and mists and masses of rat bits congeal together again. The ones with only caved skulls are the first to mend and to stand back up again, now reanimated. Even the blood and gore Greg was wiping off starts to melt off him and surges through the air to where the King used to be; rebuilding him piece by gruesome piece. Even the atoms of blood the farmer accidentally ingested nearly choke him as they run back up his throat and out his mouth. Not a mote of blood was left on the farmer, leaving him clean of the muck.  
Though there was no doubt that these rats have become undead, they did not look that different from when they were alive. Their hearts may no longer beat, but they looked healthy and filled with renewed vitality.  
The mayor, seeing the rats regenerate from death itself, stops in her tracks and pales. She gives a low scream before dashing back the way she’d just come.  
Facing off with several rats once more, Bodger takes note of their positioning and wonders how many he could get with one hammer swipe. He sweeps his hammer into the first rat he sees and sends it into the next one; the impact is so great that when their heads crash together, there is an audible crunch and they both become lifeless once more. Even the items on the ground are swept up in the flurry and the blacksmith acquires them into his inventory. He spins around and to hit the next one and his second hammer impacts the third rat’s skull once again.  
The forth rat, unfortunately, is too quick for the blacksmith as it darts into his personal space and takes a swipe at his exposed ankles.  
Bodger shifts away with an angry yell, but even as he is gearing up for his next attack, he and the other two notice that, already, the others are starting to twitch. They need to find a way to incapacitate these creatures instead of killing them, or they would be here for a long time. Long enough for the rats to perhaps even kill them.  
Even Greg is wondering what to do, as he wonders if a net would work; they could throw them in a deep hole or in the lake…  
Though it might be time for another tactic all together.  
Greg is barely thinking straight as it is in this situation; while Baradun thinks of Greg as a “woke NPC”, the farmer was still new to this whole having to think freely and actively attack creatures and save his own life. In the maelstrom of his overwhelming panic, Greg grabs the spell book as he turns to the nearest escape, passed Baradun, and runs as fast as his legs can carry him. The adrenaline giving him a burst of speed that surprises the Rat King and allows Greg to escape the danger.  
With Greg gone, Baradun has to make a quick decision; as the farmer was an adequate distraction the last time he defeated the Rat King with a single shot of his awesome, epic, fire bolt spell. Now that distraction was gone, he might actually have to get his hands dirty. The High Sorcerer quickly looked over at the blacksmith, who was about to be surrounded once more. That big muscly chap over there had made himself reasonably useful in this encounter, even if he might look like a potato. Baradun liked useful people who could do shit. Thus, making a decision, he hurried to Bodger’s side, grabbed hold of the bulging muscles and portalled them both away, focusing on Greg to get them to the fleeing farmer.  
Once in the relative safety in the Honeywood Forest, they all found a little bit of time to catch their breaths and reflect on what the hell just happened.  
Before the High Sorcerer could let his brain move to its own conclusions, there was one thing needing doing first. “I need my spell book back, Greg.”  
Greg seems to barely hear him as he is still trembling and trying to shake off the fear.  
Then Bodger steps up. “Who da hell are you?”  
Baradun straightens and looks straight at the NPC. “I’m literally the main character of the game, who the hell are you, little low level NPC from the starting village?” No need to dissemble now, he figured. He was tired, stressed, and the only thing he really wanted right now was his damn spell book so he could try to find a way to figure out what the hell was going on!  
“What do you mean, game? What are you talking abo’t?”  
“Ahh…” Baradun realized his mistake; while the blacksmith seemed quite aware of certain game mechanics, it appeared that he thought they were normal for this world.  
The farmer spared the sorcerer a warning glance. “Yeah, what are you talking about?” This was no time to get into that discussion right now. No one was in the proper frame of mind for that.  
“Some sort of game.” Bodger shifted his wait as he gave the magic user a once over. “This is not a game, this is real life. This is… and who… and wha…” he trailed off, unable to really express what he wanted to say and started to feel overwhelmed himself. He thought his fighting days were over. He shook himself and faced off with the sorcerer again. “By the way, fuck you, for whatever ye did with yer portal, getting those rats o’er to me.”  
While those two high maintenance personalities faced off, Greg set about making a small fire and a cooking stand. He always believed that a meal helped give perspective. That food could give comfort and understanding. He felt like they’d all get along a little bit better with full stomachs. It was nearly dinner hour at any rate. They’d spent more calories than they were used to. Food may be the answer. His instincts also told him that Bodger was hurt and probably needed food the most, though Greg himself suffered a scratch or two himself.  
It was while the garlic farmer was rummaging through his bag for food to give Bodger that the blacksmith got his attention. “Before you do that, I just wanna get out, fuck you Greg for throwing that meat in my direction… but I hope you’re okay.” He admitted hesitantly. If he didn’t get this angst out now, it would just fester. He knew it would. That, and he really was concerned for the gentle minded farmer.  
“Umm, yeah, thanks man. I do apologize… I feel bad.” Greg admitted. “I do feel bad for it, and I really hope this meal can help lay a first step towards us… maybe, rebuilding our relationship.” A relationship that seemed to sully after the blacksmith returned from a long ago war. He gave a soft sigh in relief when the other two finally sat down and allowed themselves to rest.


	7. The Problem

Between the quickly made garlic spread and the fire toasted bread, Bodger felt better; much better than normal food would usually give him. The bites on his legs seemed to literally knit faster and turned into healthy scars.   
When Greg tried to offer Baradun a piece, the Sorcerer politely declined. “I don’t need any food; I didn’t get hurt.” Baradun already knew Greg was capable of making food items that gave back Health Points. Seeing the blacksmiths injuries disappear didn’t surprise him. “But… I want my spell book back.”  
“Yeah, I… am not going give it to you right now.” Greg replied; when he saw Baradun’s surprised look, he repeated himself, “I’m not going to give it to you right now.” Even Bodger was looking surprised at Greg’s refusal.   
Suddenly a bird appeared in the tree behind them; a very beautiful bird, like a bird of paradise. Beautiful plumage, gorgeous colors, just absolutely stunning. It was making a very amazing song that was just as beautiful as the bird itself. Greg was almost taken by it until he noticed, as the bird turned towards them, that it seemed to have Baradun’s face on it! Its song also developed words: I’m a bird, look at me! Glaring back at the Sorcerer, Greg scooched back slightly as he realized Baradun was trying to snatch the book. “Ah! Get away!”   
“I’m… I’m sorry. Give me my book, please.” Baradun huffed, a little disappointed his distraction didn’t work.  
“I’m not going to –no!”  
“Please.” When the farmer continued to resist, Baradun sighed heavily. “Fine. Learn spells, then. Learn spells.”  
Greg gave him a leveling look. “Yeah, we’re going to have to… we’re gonna have to cross a bridge or… we’re gonna have to build some trust here.” He admitted. This was the only time he felt he had the upper hand over the High Sorcerer who always seemed to delight in bad mouthing his home and his way of life. Who also liked to treat everyone around him as if they were beneath him. Things needed to change; and perhaps this would allow him to begin giving Baradun a better appreciation of others.   
A heavy silence descended on the trio. At least until Greg stood up and started hunting around the surrounding forest for more things to cook or to build up their small camp.   
Meanwhile, Bodger was checking over his own items, finding the parchment with a weapon recipe that one of the rats dropped. It peeked his interest, so he began assembling the ingredients. Without knowing how, he knew he could still craft this item, even without a forge. That was the beauty of magical recipes; and Bodger could feel this was special. This was to make The Sword of… something… the parchment had blood covering much of the title. Even so, the ingredients were clear: a glass jar, iron bar, leather, wood, a potato, ore as well as another ingredient he did not fully comprehend. Bodger was mumbling the items as he read the list, which attracted the attention of the Sorcerer Baradun.   
When Baradun saw the blacksmiths disappointment that he didn’t have all the ingredients, he intervened. “Did you want those things?”  
Startled, Bodger looked up. “Yeah… no. So, what have I got? I’ve got leather… and I’ve got iron bar. I don’t have a glass jar. I have wood. I don’t have a potato… and I don’t have the Heart of… something…” he trailed off; the end of that ingredient was also covered in blood.  
“I can check for a potato…” Greg commented, pausing his search for edibles. “I will… can check. If… you promise to make me a sword at some point.”  
“You probably have a glass jar as well.” Baradun told the Farmer confidently.   
“Yeah, and a glass jar.” Greg looked askance at Bodger, waiting for an answer.   
Bodger considered for a moment, seeming to debate with himself. “Still don’t… ah, just give it ta’ me.” He announced as his answer.   
Wasting no time, Greg rummaged through his bag and found a glass jar and a potato. He hands them over, not realizing he didn’t get a promise for his own crafted sword.   
Having all but one of the ingredients, Bodger figures the last indecipherable ingredient is simply for an extra enchantment, so he should still be able to craft the weapon without it. On impulse, instead of a sword, Bodger decided to make this weapon a war hammer for himself, as a way to test out the recipe. With the aid of the magical recipe, and his own expertise in making such items, with a loud BINK! Bodger is soon gripping a newly crafted war hammer in his hands. “It’s finished!” he can’t help but say proudly!  
The farmer goes back to scanning the forest, hoping one day he’ll have more than a garlic strand to defend himself with.  
The High Sorcerer of Azerim, however, has his mind turned to the disturbing events that took place in Honeywood. The odd event that lead to their freedom was nigh forgotten in light of seeing rats reanimate without a spell caster to cast such an effect on them. Baradun rubbed his temples, trying to look within for answers or a path to take in finding the answers. He knew for sure that it was some sort of necromantic magic. As smart as he was, Baradun knew if he had his spell book, he’d be able to figure this out easier. So he knew there was definitely necromantic magic going on, and that sort of magic had been outlawed in the land by the King. No one was allowed to use that sort of magic; so this instance was definitely dodgy. That didn’t mean it couldn’t be studied. In fact, there was someone, a colleague of his, at the Temple of Carlabor, the Grandmaster Terrance, who works in studying the necromantic magic’s more closely. Perhaps he would be able to tell Baradun more. “I know…” he said abruptly, getting the other two’s attention, “I know some people who know dark magic, we should go check them out.” No need to tell them this person was the leader of his order. Baradun turned to Bodger, “So you want to come to protect me?” Then to Greg, “You’re gonna have to come because you currently got my book. That’s the only reason I’d want you to come.” Though he could risk a portal; this was important enough to fudge Terrance’s “no portaling directly in my study” rule. Or he could portal outside his door; Baradun thought with a grin. The NPC’s were not behaving the way they should since the error. Though the other NPC’s still had their roles unlike the three of them, it seemed the ties that bound everyone had loosened. Who knew what he would find when he went to Terrance?  
Greg gave Baradun an odd look. “I… so… you’re telling me, if I give you the book, I don’t need to go?” He really did not want to go meet another magi like Baradun. One was enough.   
“Yep.”  
With surprising quickness, Greg reached into his bag and pulled out the spell book and thrust it over to the High Sorcerer.   
“Alright! Thank you!” Baradun takes the book with delight. This will definitely make portaling into the Temple much easier. “Stay here. I will be right back!” With a sharp crack, a portal appeared behind the Sorcerer and engulfed Baradun before both disappear.   
Which left Bodger to continue enjoying what food was left from the meal, and Greg to explore the forest once more. The Garlic Farmer was able to find edible berries and all sort of edible moss that would work really nice as some kind of base for salad with its sweet taste. An abandoned bird’s nest held a few cold eggs. As the farmer searched further, he also found some loose wood that could be useful for Bodger. Always liking to be prepared, Greg also finds in his bag materials for Bodger to make another weapon; which he lets the blacksmith know, hinting that Greg himself would like to get a weapon.   
~ ~ ~  
At the Temple of Carlabor, Baradun takes one breath before breezing into Terrance’s office at the top of the highest west tower. Made of cold stone, the walls are adorned with shelves full holding many vials and jars and bottles. Many of which have gross fetuses, body parts, and goopy mixtures in them. This was a very different office then when Baradun was here last. The Grandmaster had wasted no time with his longer NPC leash. “Ahh! Terrance, you redecorated! It looks lovely…” he trailed off; something subconsciously nudging his brain, but not fully forming. If that nudge was important, it would be back.   
From the ceiling hung a wax covered chandelier and by the open window stood a large brass telescope, as well as a complicated model of the solar system. In the center of the room, a large oak desk stood, cluttered with papers and overturned empty ink vials. At that desk sat, on a large wooden chair, a three foot tall gnome with gray wild hair, a pointed goatee, and a bulbous nose. He was wearing thick, dark and hooded robes and was scribbling fervently on a piece of parchment.   
“Terrance,” Baradun tried to get the gnomes attention again, “looking charismatic as ever.”  
“Oh! Baradun! I didn’t hear you come in.” Terrance took off his tinkering goggles; a remnant of another life. “What do I… ah… what do I owe the pleasure?” He clambered off his chair, plopping lower than he was before, and toddled around the desk.   
It had been a very long time since Baradun had seen Terrance stand up. “Gawd damn it, Terrance, you’re short… you’re literally at my knees!” He couldn’t stop himself from saying; though in their backstory, they always ribbed each other for their respective heights.   
Terrance chucked, automatically going into the rote of one of their routines. “Yes, I’m a gnome; we go through this every time, Baradun. I am fully grown, and as you know, I’m actually slightly above average for my race!” he recited proudly.   
Continuing the banter, Baradun makes a motion as if to lean on Terrance, “Hold on one second… I need to lean on something… there we go!”  
“That’s offensive,” Terrance countered with a laugh, though grunted when the Sorcerer actually did start to lean on him, “I’m technically your superior, I don’t need this.”   
At that, Baradun knew the banter was over and straightened with some disappointment. It had been nice to have his friend back, even if it was only for a moment.   
“What are you doing here and what can I do for you?” Terrance asked, getting to business.   
For a moment, the High Sorcerer forgot why he’d come. The Temple was his home after all. Then he remembered with a snap of his fingers. “Right! These… idiots got attacked by undead rats in the starting zone.”  
“Undead?” Terrance perked up at that word.  
“Yeah, what’s going on?”  
“There shouldn’t be… undead… where?” Terrance seemed to say the first part to himself, but the last word was definitely directed at Baradun.  
The Sorcerer shrugged. “In the… do you know the shit starting zone, the place… Honeywood, whatever.” Of course he remembered the name of the town, he just didn’t like saying it.   
“Honeywood?”  
“Yeah.”  
Terrance lifted one hand to his goatee and his vision had that far away mien. “Interesting…” He gave his comrade a side glance. “These rats… powerful? Were they strong? Were they…”  
“Not for me.” Baradun interrupted with some haughtiness.   
“Not for you… of course. Interesting. That’s interesting.”   
“One of the shop keep’s got like, blood all over him…” Baradun began, having difficulty recalling the experience as he didn’t really do that much.   
Terrance refocused on Baradun with a sudden attentiveness. “Did you try… did you manage to kill them?”  
“Yeah.”  
“In combat?”  
Baradun blinked, unsure what the gnome was getting at. “Yes, as did the others.”  
“Even with your staff?” When Baradun affirmed that as well, Terrance held up his hand. “Can I have a look at your staff? See if…” He trailed off, waiting. Surprisingly, Baradun hands him the staff and the Grandmaster puts his tinkering goggles back on. “Seems to be workin’ fine. Shouldn’t’ve come back… Let me just…” He gives the staff a bit of a wave and some of the things in the room right themselves, and the ink bottles stand upright again. They hear a cluttering and a clinking of a tea tray as the cups sort of right themselves and a tea pot floats over to the desk. “Ah, seems to be working.” He points it at the tea tray, and it starts to pour some cups and Terrance repeats more firmly, “Uh, seems to be working.” He hands the staff back to Baradun, who snatches it back with a hard thank you. Terrance poured some milk into his tea and stirred it absently. “Necromancy… shouldn’t be around though. Um… usually they’re in pockets, so when they’re found, there’s some sort of blood coming out of the ground. Uh… maybe if you head back… yes. Head back and have a scout around for me. If, if there is necromancy, the King will want to know about it. Uh, finish your cup of course and then head back and scout around. See if you find anything else… um, and let me know. Report back.”  
As the Grandmaster speaks, Baradun takes a cup of tea and drinks, taking another look around. When Terrance is done, Baradun nods and heads into the hallway. Half way, he stops and turns. “Just before I go… I love the fetus you have in the jar, in the hallway… can I take that with me?”  
Surprised, Terrance takes a moment to comprehend what the High Sorcerer of Azerim just asked. “Uh… wha…. Is it the furry one or the one with three arms?”  
“The furry one, yeah yeah, the furry one.” Baradun chuckles to himself; this impulsive request has him near giggles.   
“The furry one… yeah. You can have that, I’m done with it…” Terrance agrees, trying not to smile at such an odd request, though it may work out to his advantage later.  
“Perfect!” Baradun wastes no time taking the tightly closed jar under one arm.   
“Not gonna ask why you want that jar of a…” Terrance trails off while shaking his head.  
Baradun gives the Grandmaster of Carlabor a cheeky wink. “See you later! Portal away!” Not bothering to leave the office first, Baradun backs into his portal and vanishes.   
It cracks and flashes, making Terrance wince. He heads back to his desk, sits and steeples his fingers. Now he waits.


End file.
